CHAPTER 31 - The Price Paid

You stare at Delgado unblinkingly, unable to think about anything in a while. Then, the sentence echoes in your head again, and a numbing, pricking feeling spreads through your entire body. Sisters…? Did she just claim you and she are sisters? You don’t even notice how your fingers strive to dig themselves into the hard wood of the chair’s armrests, the tendons in your hands stretching almost painfully as your knuckles are pushed up, white bone straining against the lightly tanned skin. Sisters! That’s impossible, inconceivable, ludicrous!

“Well,” Delgado shrugs, her manner almost nonchalant. “Half sisters, in any case.”

“No,” you finally manage to ground out, only barely restrained anger evident in your voice.

“Deny it all you want. It still doesn’t change the solid fact that we are unfortunate enough to share the same father,” Delgado remarks snidely.

“That’s not true!” You insist fiercely, glaring at Delgado. “My father–”

“Was a no-good bastard who played my mother for a fool and then left her without a backwards glance!!” Delgado nearly roars, her eyes blazing as she stares you down. “He was a selfish, worthless bastard who thought himself too good for a common street woman like my mother!”

“A common street whore, you mean,” you throw back spitefully.

Delgado almost growls, so ferocious is her sneer. “Say that again and that will be the last word you’ll ever utter in your life!”

You have no doubts about that, so you settle for glowering. “My father was the most respectable man – for a pirate. He had his morals and principles. I won’t have you talking of him like that. Got it?” you speak slowly in freezing tone, meaning every word.

“Respectable,” Delgado repeats, snorting. “Indeed. He was most respectable when he allowed mother to think all those foolish thoughts that he’d deliver her from her wretched life. That he’d save her and other nonsense. But no…” she drawls sarcastically. “Men notoriously only want a few things from women, as did your precious father. He spent a night with mother and left her soon afterwards. And then, look and behold! He goes and woos himself a pampered Governor’s daughter from Port Royal. A woman far more superior and suitable than a mere prostitute from Puerto Rico! As it was, your dear daddy hardly gave Esperanza another thought afterwards, for he had himself a family he approved of – your mother and the little bundle of joy that grew up to be you,” Delgado smiles unkindly, narrowing her eyes. “Your father was far from the holy saint you so witlessly make him out to be.”

You narrow your eyes. “So you’re saying it was my father’s fault that your silly mother thought he loved her when he was obviously only after her… services? Sounds to me that father never even knew about your entire existence, and it’s no wonder if he only spent one night with your mother, one that he likely paid for! If there’s anyone to be blamed about it, it’s your mother and her stupid illusions of something that was never there!” you spit defiantly.

You already knew the moment the words left your mouth that they wouldn’t go without reprimand, which is why your grit your teeth and brace yourself even before you’re aware of Delgado moving. A second later, your head snaps sharply to the side with a loud slap, followed instantly by hot, smarting pain that starts from your cheekbone and rushes through the entire right side of your face – you swear you could almost hear something in your neck giving a faint crunching sound at the violent smack. You remain in the slightly hunched position for a moment, taking in a breath and trying to ignore the painful stinging of your cheek. You can taste the distinct coppery tang of blood in your mouth, and you push your tongue against the bleeding spot on the inside of your cheek for a moment. Straightening yourself, you lift one hand to push your hair back from your face, before looking up to the furious eyes of Gabriela Delgado. You seize the opportunity to speak up before she manages to do so first, a certain amount of absurd gleefulness in your tone.

“You can smack me about all you like, but that doesn’t change the solid fact that your mother was just a whore to father. I know he was no saint before he met mother, and not even after that.”

For the longest while, you and Delgado just stare at each other in the eyes angrily, as if to see which one averts her gaze first. The moment seems to be stretching into a damned eternity in your opinion, until Delgado finally narrows her eyes a fraction and shakes her head slightly as she hisses something in Spanish under her breath and strolls stiffly back on the other side of the table, resentment evident in her movements.

As her she turns her back to you, you heave a silent sigh of weary relief, closing your eyes momentarily. Opening them again, you pay discreet attention to her while your conflicting thoughts wage a war inside your head. Your temples have started to throb with dull ache, and a wave of nausea suddenly sweeps through you as the full meaning of the numbing revelation finally sinks in. Half sisters… oh god. That just can’t be true, it can’t… you cannot possibly be related to that hellish fiend, to actually share some amount of blood with her! You swallow thickly a few times to push down the strong urge to just lean over and empty the meagre contents of your stomach on the cabin’s floor at the mere thought. You keep your gaze on Delgado as she eyes the mysterious box on the table, one thought repeating itself over and over in your mind; my father is also her father.

Your throat tightens painfully as the little things that seemed a bit odd but meaningless earlier now come crashing down on you, making perfect sense – how Delgado’s eyes had looked so hauntingly familiar on Tortuga when she passed you by at the Bride, how she’s so tall; they were your father’s eyes, your father’s height… she’d inherited the traits that you hadn’t gotten from your father, her father… the queasiness returns instantly, and you find your stomach convulsing a few times before you manage to control your reaction to vomit. You wouldn’t be giving Delgado the satisfaction to witness the distress she’s stirred in your with her news, even if soiling her floors does have a certain appeal to it. Numbness spreads through you, and you feel weak and cold once again. This has to be a bad dream, a one big nightmare. This is simply too insane and horrible to be true.

The rational part of your mind processes the fact that your father had simply visited a whore when in Puerto Rico for one reason or another, and spared not a second thought to the woman afterwards as most men did. You know your father was not a saint, much less chaste for goodness sake. So, the whore had become pregnant and given birth to Gabriela. You doubt Pete ever even knew her mother had been with child, and why should he have? It was just business to him, to put it simply. Then later, Pete had met Melissa Swann, fell in love with her, ran away with her and married her, forgetting all about other women altogether. And this is, apparently, what rankles Delgado; that Pete had a family with someone else than her mother. But how could he possibly have known of Gabriela? It wasn’t his fault, and yet Delgado very obviously deems your father the most wretched man there ever was for “forgetting” her mother and finding his true love. Dear lord, this is all so twisted…

Suddenly, you feel excruciatingly weary. More things have happened in the past week than ever before, and it is starting to take its toll on you. And although not everything has been bad – in fact, the long awaited step forward in the somewhat imprecise relationship between you and Jack is probably the best thing that has ever happened in your life – this latest revelation you would have gladly liked to keep unknown until the end of times. You wish more than anything that you could just get away from this place, from this ship, from these people and be with those you love and just forget this awful news. Myriad of emotions storm inside you, and you’re not sure whether to laugh, cry or raise total hell. Were you not feeling so boneless all of a sudden, you’d opt for the latter.

“I see this news came as a surprise to you. And apparently not a pleasant one,” Delgado’s low tone breaks into your thoughts, and you flicker your gaze up to meet her cold ones. You draw back your previous notion of Delgado having your father’s eyes. They might be the same hue, but Pete’s eyes always gazed at you with warmth and love, and even when he was furiously angry with someone, his were never cruel and heartless like Delgado’s eyes constantly seem to be. Out of the blue, or perhaps due to this realization, the stubborn resolve that fled your mind fleetingly after Delgado’s revelation returns to you two times stronger.

“The idea of sharing blood with you is about as pleasant as a bad rash and scurvy put together, thanks very much,” you reply with snide sarcasm. “Actually, neither the rash or scurvy doesn’t sound bad at all compared to the alternative.”

Delgado raises one brow coolly, clearly not as amused by the allegory as you are. This makes you want to chuckle out loud in smug mirth, and you don’t bother to curb the impulse. You complete your mocking act by lifting one corner of your mouth, smirking in that sapient way you know annoys her greatly, ignoring the slight smart of your abused cheek that the motion only doubles. You know all too well that you’re doing your best to earn another smack across the face from the Spaniard, but you’ll be damned if you would make things easy and effortless for Delgado. If she thought you are going to just be quiet and tolerate her bitter taunts, she had another thing coming. Fierce defiance flares in you; you would not admit defeat, not now, not ever – and certainly not to her.

Gifting you with that “I’m this close to running out of patience with you” scowl of hers, Delgado turns her attention on the wooden box still resting on the table. Her voice is as measured and reverent as the movement in which she lifts up the lid of the ebony-hued box, staring at the revealed contents that you cannot see.

“Do you know how long I have been after this treasure? How many hours, years, I have spent chasing after trifling clues and elusive hints on the whereabouts of the other half of this?” Delgado flickers her eyes back to you and holds up a rolled up piece of parchment between her fingers and thumb. It’s yellowed with old age and tattered around the edges, and you know all too well that that is; nothing else but Delgado’s piece of the map that, connected with the part that Jack has, leads to the lost resting place of the Abyss and her treasures.

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me just that,” you respond with a jaded sigh, knowing she would no matter what you say. Delgado obviously had a small streak for speeches that almost border on dramatic, and you’re pretty sure she could easily hit Barbossa’s marks when she warmed up on some subject. Luckily Delgado isn’t quite as excessively grand in her gestures as the deceased mutineer was.

Paying no mind to your comment, Delgado stares at the piece in something akin to wonderment. “Many long years… almost ten full ones. This is the reason I left my family and started the long, arduous journey of mine. So that I could retrieve what was so cowardly stolen from my kin, restore our honour and extract revenge on those who wronged us in the first place all those decades ago,” Delgado murmurs, glancing at you with hard eyes. “The Fowlers. They’d stolen the map from us in their cursed greediness many, many years ago. My grandfather’s father tried to get the map back, and in the process it was torn in two. Being the thieving wretches the Fowler’s were and probably still are, they pilfered the other half to keep it away from us. But the damned butterfingers lost the piece themselves along the years and soon nobody knew where it had gotten.”

That is not quite the version Lucas Fowler had told you and the rest of the gang in the Faithful Bride when you first met him on Tortuga. According to him – and you have no reason to doubt the legitimacy of his tale – the map had been in possession of the Fowler family for decades, and for this reason it bore their family crest in one corner, in the piece Jack has. Gabriela’s grandfather’s father was a greedy bastard and envied the Fowler family for owning such a priceless map. So, he had stolen the map for his own and intended to look for the treasure himself. However, Lucas Fowler’s grandfather’s father had strove to retrieve it back to its rightful owners, but sadly the map had been torn in half in the skirmish between the two men – one half to each. Later, the Fowler’s piece was lost and remained missing until the day you had, as fate would have it, found it in the hold of the Black Pearl from one of the chests pilfered from an English merchant ship.

An unbelievable coincidence, but in the light of the recent revelations, you now wonder if it was a mere coincidence after all that you and Jack were the ones to find the piece…? However, you push this idea aside for the time being. The point is, that Gabriela is apparently convinced everything happened the other way around, that the map originally belonged to the Delgado’s and the Fowler’s were trying to steal it. Did she not know of the Fowler family crest in the map? It’s impossible to know. Perhaps she had heard her grandfather tell her these things and grown to hate the Fowlers – perhaps Gabriela’s grandfather had been lied to about the true events revolving around the map, too. Be that as it may, you’re certain that whatever you could possibly say about the true circumstances, Gabriela would pay them no heed to. She has hated the Fowler family for so long you believe that nothing could erase such fierce hatred from her mind now. So, in this case, it might be wiser to just save your breath and be silent for once. If nothing else, you’ve at least been given a brief glimpse into the Spaniards thoughts that could yet prove useful later on.

Delgado has kept silent for a moment now, still staring at the piece in her hand. Abruptly, she gives an amused sound from her throat, shaking her head a little. “However, now it seems that my search is finally nearing its end, because of you. It’s strange, really… I have hated you for as long as I have known about you, and yet I really have you of all people to be thankful to for delivering me the other part of the map I need to find out the correct location.” She turns her amused gaze at you, smirking. “So, thank you very much, little sister. Turns out you’re not completely useless, after all.”

Your eyes harden at the word, and you scowl at Delgado. “Don’t you dare call me that. Ever. Just because we happen to share some blood, you will never be my sister, not even a half one. I don’t despise anyone as much as I do you,” you hiss venomously. “You’re poison and spite to the core.”

Delgado lets out an unimpressed noise, setting the map piece back in the box, but doesn’t close the lid. “So you keep saying. Rest assured that the loathing is very much mutual feeling, even if I don’t bother voicing it every moment,” she drawls patronizingly as she folds her arms casually behind her back and starts to stroll slowly towards the great bureau. “All the same, we’ll just have to make do for a little while longer. We should reach Aguadilla tomorrow at dawn if the winds hold.”

You listen to Delgado only with one ear; most of your attention is drawn to the black box resting on the table, containing the precious piece of parchment. You have no idea what Jack’s plans for this trade are and if he has some plan thought up, but if Delgado gets the missing piece, she’ll be able to decipher the location of the Abyss. That would leave the rest of you in a tight spot since you’d have no way of knowing her destination, and hence could not follow her. Tailing her might be risky and she could possibly elude you someway. One thing was for certain; Delgado could not be allowed to escape. She had to be stopped, in one way or another, no matter the price…

You flicker your eyes towards Delgado, seeing that her back is turned to you. Darting your eyes back on the box, you mull over the sketchy plan of action that has started to form in your mind almost on its own accord. You’re sure Jack has had the smarts to copy the map piece he has; he’s not a stupid man, after all. But Delgado isn’t half-witted either, and you’re positive she had a copy of her piece somewhere… so, if you could somehow provide the half that Delgado has, you’d get the bearings as well. It would be risky as hell and possibly very detrimental to your health, but you have to try or else the game would be lost. This could be – and probably is – the stupidest thing you’ve ever attempted in your life, but such is the price you’d have to pay. Now, you only need to wait for the infamous opportune moment to pull your plan through, for better or for worse.

“So, tell me…” Delgado suddenly speaks up, pausing for a moment to glance at you with a smirk. Her tone is sly, and it instantly makes you grow wary. “How are things with you and the good Captain Sparrow, hmm? I tried asking him when we met on Tortuga earlier if he’d already bedded you, but he was being surprisingly tight-lipped about it then. But, I should figure he has added another notch to his bedpost by now, correct?”

You narrow your eyes a little in thought. “I hardly think that’s any of your business... still, it makes me wonder why you seem to be so excessively curious about this matter. I do hope you’re not envious, Gabby,” you grin cheekily.

Delgado gives you a sardonic look. “If you think that approach will rattle me, you’re once again very mistaken,” she says in fed up tone, reaching her hand up to take something from one of the shelves… no, she’s stroking something – you catch a glimpse of white among the shadows, and realize that there’s a huge white snake resting on one of the shelves as Delgado pulls her hand away after a moment and takes a few steps forward. Very suitable company for one another, you reckon.

“Well, one can’t help but to wonder when you keep dwelling on it,” you respond distractedly, watching the snake slip out its forked tongue to taste the air, pink eyes gleaming. Returning your gaze to Delgado, you give her an uncompromising look. “But I’d like to leave that subject alone for now on, as it really is none of your flaming concern and I have no intentions of discussing it with you. Hopefully I was being clear enough for you to understand.”

Delgado scoffs, speaking sarcastically, “Why, my deepest apologies, Miss Byrne.” She stalks a few steps closer to you, staring down at you with contempt in her eyes and muttering almost to herself. “Probably should’ve known you’d throw yourself at him sooner or later, given your heredity…”

The poorly disguised taunt towards your mother, whom Delgado seems to hate as much as she does you, causes blazing anger to flare up inside you, and before you even realize what you’re doing you’ve sprung yourself upright with such velocity the chair you were sitting on topples over with a loud clatter.

“You’d know all about that! Hell, if heredity moulds us and your mother has went through the entire male population of Puerto Rico, that would make you one hell of a whore, too, wouldn’t it?!” you shout gruffly, glowering at Delgado with all you’re worth.

A furious, high-pitched sound between a growl and a shriek erupts from Delgado’s throat as her grey eyes widen in rage. You’re already moving away from her reach, circling the round table so that it stays between the two of you, your mind working feverishly. Delgado’s eyes practically strike sparks as she sneers at you from the other side.

“I’ll tear out your damn tongue when I get to you!” she growls irately as she makes another try to circle the table quicker than you and get her hands on you, but you manage to elude her again by keeping on moving.

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?” you snap crossly, proceeding with your plan – as you’re but a few paces away from the box that still lies on the table, you suddenly grab the nearby chair with both hands and heft it up in the air, the adrenaline rushing in your veins giving you a boost of strength. With a yell, you fling the chair against Delgado’s tall frame as she tries to circle around the table again.

Delgado shrieks in surprise as she realizes the chair is sailing towards her, and only has a moment to turn her face away and shield her head with her arms. She gives another furious cry as it makes impact with her body, toppling her off balance; this is the moment you’ve been waiting for. As Delgado’s recovering from the blow, staggering on her feet, you step quickly to the box and snatch the parchment from it, stuffing it hastily down your bodice somewhere between your breasts before stepping further away, your limbs shaking from the strain and exhaustion. Now you only hope Delgado’s anger will be enough to distract her from the map until you can figure out a way to hide it somewhere. And that she won’t kill you where you stand.

In the same moment the doors to the Captain’s quarters fly open wide, and a bunch of women burst in, apparently alarmed by the shouting and the racket. You recognize at least Carmen and Nerita, accompanied by three other women you don’t know. Without wasting another moment, Carmen rushes to you and snatches hold of your arm tightly, spitting something in Spanish you can’t translate – and really don’t even want to. Rapid flows of Spanish suddenly fill the air, but you’re not certain who’s speaking what and to whom. The adrenaline in your veins wanes away and you feel weak, exhausted and shaky once again.

Nerita has reached Delgado’s side, who is now standing tall once again, fury still burning bright in her smoky eyes. She barks a few sharp words in Spanish and the agitated prattle of the women cease instantly, deafening silence descending in the room. Delgado’s eyes are fixed firmly upon you as she stalks closer, and you’re sure you’re in for it now. The stolen piece of parchment stuffed inside your bodice seems to suddenly burn against your skin.

“Carmen.” Delgado speaks in slow, freezing tone, only barely curbing her anger. “Take Miss Byrne back to the brig before something very unfortunate happens to her.”

You almost heave a grateful sigh, but your relief is short-lived. You still have to hide the map, and quickly. Delgado will realize that it’s missing soon. Carmen sneers at you and tugs at your arm hard, almost throwing you off balance as she starts dragging you out of the cabin onto the deck. You move along, wanting to get away from the cabin as quickly as possible before your plan is reduced into nothingness. The bright sunlight blinds you for a moment as you step outside, and Carmen seems to notice your discomfort. Laughing downright wickedly, she shoves you ahead into the swarm of curious women that have gathered outside Delgado’s cabin, attracted by the commotion. They mock and shove you around, taunting you in Spanish, but as you abruptly catch the sight of Gemma cowering a while away, an epiphany hits you and you have to force yourself not to grin in delight. You call up your best acting skills, purposefully staggering towards the English woman, throwing yourself against the Spaniards who unwittingly help you by pushing you just in the direction you wanted to go. Your body smashes right into Gemma, and you quickly slip your hand down your dress and retrieve the map piece, shoving it discreetly into Gemma’s small hands while your body hides the exchange from the Spaniards.

“Hide it!” you hiss. “Keep it safe for me!”

Gemma can only manage a fearful nod as she hides the rolled up piece by slipping it up her sleeve, out of sight. You give her an encouraging smile, before someone grabs you roughly by the arm again.

“Come on, wench!” Carmen sneers, before throwing a glare at Gemma. “What’re you staring at, you puny mouse! Be off before I gut you!”

Gemma almost runs in her haste to get away from Carmen, throwing a sad look at you over her shoulder as Carmen again starts to haul you along. But before you get very far, a loud, furious scream echoes from the Captain’s quarters. You wince, closing your eyes momentarily. Your theft has been noticed.

Soon enough, Gabriela Delgado strides out of her cabin, shouting something in Spanish. Carmen stops immediately, turning to face Delgado. She pays Carmen no heed, but keep her eyes fixed on you the entire time she stomps closer, and now you notice she’s clutching a rather wicked looking dagger in her right hand. Oh shit.

“Where is it?!” Delgado roars in fury as she grabs your throat with her left hand and waves the tip of the dagger in front of your eyes. “You took it, you wretched little bitch! Give it back right now and I may spare you!”

“What’re you talking about?” you gasp, grabbing her wrist with both hands and digging your scant nails in her skin. “I don’t have anything!”

“Liar!” Delgado snaps. “You took the map! Hand it over!”

“How do you know,” you wheeze, “That some of your crew didn’t take it?”

Delgado narrows her eyes, and you catch a fleeting note of suspicion flashing in them before it disappears. “Don’t even try. You’re the only one stupid enough to pull such a stunt. I ask you again,” she almost purrs, placing the tip of the dagger against your forehead, on your hairline above your right eye. “Where is it?”

“I don’t have it.” Well, that wasn’t a lie.

“I don’t believe you,” Delgado answers, pushing a little with the blade and drawing it across your skin, and you grit your teeth against the stinging pain as your skin is torn and warm blood trickles down your forehead.

“I don’t have it!” you ground out again.

Delgado growls but says nothing, only pushes a little harder as she slits a long gash on your forehead. You grip her wrist tighter and hiss in pain, your hiss turning into a groan as the tip of the dagger cuts through your skin all the way to your right temple, blood spilling down your forehead.

“I said I don’t have it!” you yell, your eyes squeezed shut as if to block out the fierce pain.

Delgado gives a frustrated huff and pulls the blade away. “Have it your way, then,” she whispers spitefully in your ear, before practically throwing you backwards, causing your to lose your footing and fall flat on your back against the hard floorboards. Air escapes your lungs at the impact and you can’t breath for a moment, the stinging on your forehead only intensifying.

“Sisters,” Delgado’s voice floats through the air, and you wrench your eyes open as you struggle to roll on your side, wincing as the cut on your forehead starts to throb painfully. Rivulets of sticky, warm blood trickle down from it, some flowing over your eyebrow and straight into your right eye. Delgado smiles wickedly down at you. “Please show Miss Byrne how we treat thieves aboard this vessel. Just make sure she stays alive and more or less in one piece.”

Oh, this is not good, you think blearily. Not good at all. That’s all you can manage before the first blow hits you in a form of a booted foot that kicks you neatly in the middle of your stomach, causing you to double over in agony as much as the bloody corset gives away and lose your breath all over again. Struggling to regain your breath, you kick out blindly with your feet in some form of retaliation, gaining some amount of satisfaction as you hit someone and judging from the sounds, knock her off her feet. More kicks rain down, on your back and thighs. Cursing the Spaniard’s cowardice, you hastily wipe your hand over your right eye, sweeping off the blood that threatens to render it sightless. Somehow, you manage to fight yourself on your shaky feet, resorting to delivering rather weak punches in attempts to defend yourself. It’s not much use, since one against ten is quite uneven match; you find yourself staring down on the patterns of the wood once again, your body aching and hurting all over.

You lose comprehension of time and, you think, much of your alertness, too. The things you do understand is the merciless beating, the sticky blood flowing down the side of your face, getting in your right eye and causing you to literally see red, and the throughout, agonizing pain that seems to be consuming your entire being – you’re not aware of the single cuts, bruises and abrasions on your skin, just the feeling of numbing pain that they create together. You grit your teeth together, trying to suppress another pained groan that threatens to spill from your lips. Another kick to your side sends you into a fit of gasping and coughing as you try to draw in a breath. Sprawled on the hard surface on your stomach, you wonder blearily if perhaps it stopped already when nobody takes another blow at you in a blessed moment.

“Get up, now,” Delgado’s voice floats down to you. You would, if you weren’t consumed by the all-encompassing, numbing pain.

What would your father say if he saw you now, bleeding and broken like this? The random thought that crosses your mind suddenly sparks an unexpected feeling of rebelliousness in you, and you exhale through your nose. Groaning, you push against the floorboards with your shaking hands, even through it feels as if every muscle in your body screams in pain at the movement. Your right eye is blind from all the blood that has flowed in it from the cut of your forehead, and this realization causes a sudden, shocking thought to enter your mind, freezing your body for a moment; I had a dream about this on Tortuga.

Recalling what happened next in the dream, you just manage to draw in a breath and brace yourself as the attack comes; someone strikes from your blind side and hits you squarely on the temple, giving your exhausted mind and body the final push into black oblivion of unconsciousness – you lose all awareness of everything before your limp body even hits the hard deck.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 32 - The Day of Reckoning

Gemma’s hands trembled faintly as she held the old piece of parchment, staring down at it indecisively. This was part of the reason for the mindless sackings Delgado had executed along the years, like the one that wiped out all those Gemma had ever cared about? She could hardly comprehend it; so many innocent people had died because of it. It was pure madness, nothing short.

Thousands of questions swarmed in Gemma’s mind, ones that she’d spent half of the night trying to solve. She had hoped the morning would be wiser than the night, but now as the dawning of a new day drew nigh, she still hadn’t found the answer to the most important one of them all; what was she to do, next?

Gemma bit her lip as she recalled the brutal show from yesterday, how those horrible women had beaten Byrne at Delgado’s prompt just after she’d shoved the piece of parchment in Gemma’s hands for safekeeping. Gemma couldn’t help out the kind woman even if she’d desperately wanted to, but at least she could prove herself worthy of the trust Byrne had placed in her. So, she had done exactly as told and kept the map piece a secret, having retreated in her usual sanctuary that the rarely occupied galley offered.

Heaving a sigh, Gemma sunk into a crouch, leaning her back against a heavy, wooden crate whilst clutching the map still in her hand. She’d promised to keep the piece safe for Byrne, and she had. But what about now? Did Byrne have some kind of plan on how to proceed next? Moreover, how was she doing at the moment, anyway? Gemma hadn’t seen her since the disaster on deck yesterday; she had tried to sneak down to the brig to see her, but had been waylaid by Carmen, even if unbeknownst to the Spaniard. The mere sight of the diabolical woman had sent cold shivers of terror skating down Gemma’s spine, and as cowardly as it had been, she’d quickly turned on her heel and fled as far away from her as she could. All Gemma had been able to do was to pray for Byrne, and this she did meticulously. Gemma had also spared one for herself as well, even if she had almost started to believe God had turned his back on her long time ago.

However, now was not the time for idle musings. Gemma needed to see Byrne and make sense of what was she to do next. Unexpected tremor of anticipation suddenly trilled within Gemma’s mind. Perhaps this was finally it. Perhaps she would finally be free of this horrible ship and the dreadful women aboard it. Logic told Gemma not to get her hopes up only to have them crushed once again, but despite that, excitement uplifted a small part of her will. She had to take her fate into her own hands, for no one else would do it for her. With renewed resolve, Gemma pushed herself upright and hid the map in her pocket before starting to tread out of the dim galley with silent steps.

* * * *

Wake up, for goodness’ sake!

Your awareness starts spreading slowly, wakening your exhausted senses and striving to gain consciousness. Vaguely, you become aware of a throbbing pain on your temple, and a quiet, muffled groan spills from your lips as the throbbing intensifies for a second before waning away into a still painful but about tolerable sting. Your senses start to sharpen slowly but surely, and as muddled and sluggish as your thoughts still are, you gradually start to understand that someone is talking, even if the words are slow to register in your mind. Mostly, you only recognize the distressed tone of the muffled voice.

Are you awake? Please wake up, already!

As if awakening from centuries of slumber, your body and mind finally start to respond lethargically.

“Eauurgh…” The unintelligible groan tumbles out of your mouth unbidden as you become painfully aware of the soreness and aches of your body. “Oooow, goooods….” you go on, the close proximity of the floorboards to your mouth slurring your moans.

“Oh, thank heavens!” The relieved voice of Governor Swann’s suddenly registers in your ears. “You’re finally awake! I’ve been so worried about you!”

“’M aright…” you mumble automatically in response, your dry tongue feeling thick in your mouth. You haven’t yet opened your eyes, and quite frankly, you’re in no hurry to do so. The steadfast pounding in your skull seems like the type that only increases the moment you would, so why rush into more pain?

“No, you’re not,” the Governor replies in melancholy tone. “You’re exhausted and… oh! That woman won’t get away with this!”

“I think I’ve had it worse,” you mutter wearily, lips brushing against the hard wood again. You draw in a tentative breath, breathing as deeply as you can without another twinge of pain hitting you somewhere and start to mentally survey your state. Your left cheek is pressing tightly against the floorboards, rather uncomfortably so but that’s the least of your worries at the moment. Your hands are lying limp on both sides of your head as you’re sprawled on the floor of the filthy cell on your belly – you can feel the bones in the corset digging into your skin unpleasantly. You’re really not looking forward to seeing the damage done to your body with your own eyes; considering that bruises are something your skin tended to acquire quite easily, you’re willing to be you’re speckled with black and purple discolorations in every shape and size. Not pretty.

Carefully, you lift your fingers from the floor one at a time, deeming to your satisfaction that they’re all unbroken. Despite the aches and sores, you’re not getting a feel of having any broken bones or anything more critical. That would be a bit of luck in this wretched situation, at least. Spending a moment just listening to what your body was signalling, you at last risk lifting your head unhurriedly from the floor and pulling your arms closer to your torso, biting your teeth as your muscles protest at the movement. Despite the fact that you still haven’t cracked your eyes open, you can feel your head spinning nauseatingly. With a quiet moan, you lower your head back down and lean the undamaged side of your forehead against your arm, keeping still for a while.

“I’ll wipe decks with that fucking trollop one day soon. Most definitely. Then we’ll see who has the last laugh. Oh, yes indeed...” you grumble crossly under your breath, cursing Delgado and her cronies all the way down to that deepest circle of hell. You promise yourself to do just that. Right after every intake of air stops hurting so much. But Delgado would hear from you later, no mistake made there.

For the first time since you woke, you finally open your eyes. Well, eye – your right eye is hard to crack open thanks to all the blood that’s encrusting the lid, so you keep it closed. Dried up blood is caking the right side of your face from the gash on your hairline down to your cheek where some has dribbled. You can only imagine how dashing you must be looking. With a grunt, you give a second attempt to raise your head, and this time the room doesn’t spin overly much. Encouraged by this, you wait for a moment and push yourself tentatively up on your hands and knees, not surprised at all by the dull ache that immediately courses through you. Clenching your jaw to keep the pained groan inside, you lower yourself to sit on the floorboards and lean your battered back against the ship’s hull with a tired, grateful sigh as you can finally allow your abused muscles to relax.

Ignoring the Governor’s palpably concerned look, you decide to enquire the first thing that comes to your mind. “How long have I been out?”

Weatherby shakes his head. “Ever since they dragged you back here yesterday afternoon. Through the entire night. All too long for comfort! I was starting to fear you weren’t going to wake up at all…”

Slight shock runs through you at the news of being unconscious for so many hours, but the worried edge in the older man’s voice prompts you to forget about your own apprehension and to tilt your head a little to the side, looking at him with your left eye and giving him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine now. Well, as fine as can be, at least. Don’t worry too much. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ve had it worse.”

The uneasy memory of the incident in which you received the long scar that runs horizontally across your abdomen suddenly enters your mind, and you push the vague, hazy images you hold of the nine year old event swiftly away. That was the closest you have ever been to death, and you don’t like recalling what little you remember of it. However as you think about it, the memory actually puts things into perspective for you; as sore as you are now, this condition isn’t fatal and not even nearly as painful as that awful gash that nearly led to you bleeding to death had been. This gives you a bit more poise in the situation, to know that you’ve indeed survived through much worse.

The Governor is obviously about to argue, but noises from the stairs catch both of your attention. You roll your eyes and bite your tongue lightly to keep from groaning in aggravation, sure that it’ll be someone from the crew - or perhaps even Delgado herself - about to come down and gloat. This is, however, a needless worry since it proves to be Gemma’s petite form that descends the stairs in that cautious, vigilant fashion she always seems to be moving. But then again, that alertness is probably one of the reasons she has survived here for this long. She fiddles with her fingers and wrings her hands about nervously as she quietly steps closer to your cell, clear sadness reflected on her face.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, bowing her head slightly and evading your eyes.

“For what exactly? You still have the map?” you question, for if she doesn’t, you took one hell of a beating for nothing.

“Yes, I still have it. I’ve kept it safe just like you told me to,” Gemma explains softly, glancing at you briefly behind her ochre curls. “But I’m sorry you… paid such a price for it… and that I couldn’t help. I wanted to, I really did, but I couldn’t do anything!”

You frown as you hear the waver in her tone, realizing that Gemma is close to tears over the matter. “It’s all right, Gemma. Really, there was nothing you could’ve done. Please don’t feel responsible,” you comfort her, starting to feel tired. Almost on its own volition, your good eye closes before you go on wearily, “It was not your fault in the least. The important thing is that you kept the map hidden…”

A moment of silence ensues, one only broken by the faint creaks of the ships old timbers as the waves rock her.

“Am I to understand,” Governor Swann suddenly speaks up, and you’re surprised to hear a note of anger in his usually calm tone, “That those women abused you because of a map?”

Ah. Only now you remember that the Governor has no idea what happened with Delgado. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the uncomfortable twinge of your muscles, you open your left eye again, again damning the crust of dried blood over your right eyelid.

“That would be the gist of it,” you reply with a sigh, yielding and proceeding to explain the events to the Governor, not including the revelation of you and Delgado being half-sisters. That was something you’d keep closely under wraps with most people. Weatherby listens patiently, and then you’re finally done after a moment, the deafening silence descends over the three of you once again.

“That is the most foolish thing you could have done, dear girl!” he finally cries out in dismay. “What on earth were you thinking when you did that?”

You can’t curb the smile that abruptly lifts the corners of your mouth. You have a feeling that was pretty much what Jack would say, too, only he would likely use a bit more colourful language. Probably use the words ‘stupid’ and ‘stubborn’ a lot, too. Your smile however vanishes in another moment. What would Jack say about you being related to Delgado? Should you tell him that at all…? The moment the thought crosses your mind, you abandon it just as swiftly. You know you’d tell him, but his reaction quite frankly terrified you. You have no idea how he would take it. Hell, you wouldn’t blame him for being disgusted, you were too when told the news.

Governor Swann calling your name in questioning tone brings you out of your pessimistic thoughts, and you resolutely push them away as nonsense.

“Yes, it probably was,” you agree. “But it worked. If Delgado would escape Puerto Rico, we’d have no idea of her next destination. And she’d get away scot-free from all the horrible things she’s ever done and would most likely commit new crimes and kill more people. She has to be caught and sentenced, for the sake of everyone in the Caribbean. Now we know where she’ll be headed since we have both parts of the map.”

“But wasn’t the whole point in this upcoming trade the fact that Captain Sparrow is to hand over his part of the map to Delgado?”

“Yes, but I’m willing to bet Jack has copied his part already,” you reply with assurance. “But I think so has Delgado. Which would mean that both parties end up having the map in its entirety, after all. Gemma, you must keep holding onto the piece, it’s best if you have it. I doubt nobody would suspect you.”

“Very well,” Gemma nods a little. “But what about when we reach Aguadilla? It shouldn’t take long, now.”

You frown again as you think about this. Gemma had to get off the ship, for she needed to smuggle the piece out. This would probably also be the only chance to liberate Gemma from her forced servitude aboard the shabby galleon. The downside in all this was the fact that you have no idea how and where Delgado planned to make the trade happen…

“Well, one thing is for certain. You need to get off this ship. You need to accompany us into the city, Gemma. Somehow, this has to happen.”

Gemma worries her bottom lip uneasily with her teeth, but doesn’t immediately reject the idea as impossible like you had half-expected her to do.

“I know it’s asking for much,” you start softly in earnest tone. “But it’s the only way. It’s the only way for you to reclaim your freedom. And freedom is always worth taking some risks, believe it or not.”

Heaving a soft sigh, Gemma meets your gaze. “I do believe it. All right, I’ll do it. I promise you, somehow I will get off this ship.”

You grin. “Good. That’s perfect. But for now,” you pause, grimacing as you move your body slightly as your back starts to ache, “all we can do is to wait.”

“For what?” Gemma asks quietly. She watches you closely as you give her a knowing smirk that she cannot quite make sense of.

“For the opportune moment, Gemma.”

With that, you lie yourself back down on the floorboards and close your tired eyes again, the familiar phrase causing your lips to twitch into faint, small smile before exhaustion overtakes you and you fall asleep.

* * * *

There was a light, barely noticeable spring to Gemma’s quiet steps as she climbed up the stairs from the brig. Today would change her life, she was sure of it. Despite the possible threat of something going wrong, Gemma felt more optimistic than she had been in ages. A small smile graced her lips as she started treading quietly down the dim, cluttered corridors of the ship towards the galley. Now, she needed to devise some sort of plan on how to go about her mission to be allowed along into the city later today.

“Making friends with the Captain’s hostages, are you Gemma?”

The heavily accented English made Gemma skid into a quick halt, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. Swallowing nervously, she turned around and saw narrowed dark green eyes staring at her piercingly under bangs of light brown hair.

“Nerita,” Gemma uttered in half-hearted greeting, discreetly wiping her sweaty palms on the thighs of her breeches.

Gemma was a head taller than Nerita, but she still felt a sense of intimidation course through her as she was exposed to the diminutive first mate’s scrutinizing stare. But perhaps that was because this woman was supposed to be Delgado’s best friend and confidant, and if she decided to tell the Captain about her visits to the brig, Gemma could kiss goodbye her plans of ever being free – she would be dead sooner.

“I wonder,” Nerita started slowly, measuring Gemma up with her sharp eyes, “What would the Captain say if she knew of this, hm?”

Gemma’s heart skipped a beat as the Spaniard voiced her worst fear. For a short moment, she couldn’t think rationally to save her life, but then the feel of the parchment in her pocket brought her back to her senses. She could not back down now or all would be lost. Actually… the first mate could be Gemma’s saving grace in the situation, after all. Hence, Gemma steeled herself up and spoke up, even if a bit waveringly, “Nothing, if she does not know.”

Nerita tilted her head slightly to the side, her lips stretching into amused smirk. “Oh? And what makes you think the Captain would not know about this, then?”

“She wouldn’t know if you wouldn’t tell. Perhaps I could ask you a simple favour,” Gemma went on softly.

Nerita’s mouth twitched as she stared at Gemma, her expression both suspicious and amused – as if she couldn’t really decide if Gemma was being serious or not. “A favour?” she repeated at last. “Why would I do you, or anyone else, a favour?”

“It might be your way to show a little bit of gratitude after I tell you about Carmen’s furtive plans to kill you,” Gemma replied quietly but seriously, eyeing Nerita closely.

The short Spaniard went completely emotionless and her eyes hardened. “If this is some scheme of yours to raise problems among the crew, I swear…” she trailed off, glaring at Gemma.

“It’s not,” Gemma assured hurriedly. “What would I gain from such? I would have nothing to win.”

Nerita eyed Gemma sternly for the longest moment, staying silent. “Fine,” she responded tersely after a while. “But not here.”

“In the galley. Nobody goes there,” Gemma provided, and was surprised to see a sudden, miniscule smile play about the corners of Nerita’s normally unsmiling mouth.

“Is that your little hiding place?”

Gemma was silent for a moment as they started walking, before nodding and speaking softly, “That’s been my hiding place for years.”

Nerita glanced at the taller woman briefly, some unknown emotion flashing in her green eyes momentarily before she turned her stoic face ahead. Nothing else was said between the two women, and the rest of the short trip to the empty galley was made in complete silence.

* * * *

“Get up.”

The clipped demand and someone shaking your shoulder none too gently awaken you from your slumber, and you start coming around with a fed up groan. Wasn’t it only a few moments ago when you fell asleep? What the hell did they want from you this time?

“I’m up,” you snap grumpily and shrug the hand off your shoulder, your thirst and exhaustion making you cranky. You wrench your clean eye open and glare at the short woman crouched next to your prone form inside your cell, realizing a bit belatedly that it’s the first mate you saw yesterday in the Captain’s quarters. Nerita, if you recall rightly.

Nerita doesn’t seem too moved in either way by your ill-tempered mood, but scans her green eyes over your battered body in a quick scrutiny. “Can you walk?” she asks brusquely in accented English.

“Aye, I can walk, damn it,” you grouse while struggling to get your stiff limbs to cooperate. At least you think you can. Grunting, you get up on your bruised knees and lean your hands on the floorboards, setting your bare feet flat on the ground. Slowly, you stand up on two feet, feeling shaky and dizzy. Out of instinct, you brace one hand against the hull for support as the room starts spinning around you. Someone snorts derisively, and you can only assume it was Nerita as you’ve closed your eye in attempt to relive the dizziness.

“And what a good job you’re doing,” Nerita says sarcastically, pointing her next words to someone else. “Help her out, otherwise we’ll be stuck here for the rest of the day!”

Somebody takes you by the left arm, but surprising you by doing it gently and carefully instead of using the bone-crushing grip Carmen always favoured.

“It’s me,” Gemma’s voice whispers, and you relax a little. Taking a breath and opening your eye once again, you glance at the petite woman beside you. You doubt she’ll be too must assistance to you, as you surely possess a bit more muscle and height than she does, but you don’t spurn her help in any case.

“What’s going on? What time is it?” you ask her quietly as you allow her to move your arm so that it’s draped over her slender shoulders, trying to keep from wincing at the aching the motion causes.

“Almost midday. Time to head to the town,” Gemma replies in hushed tone, and you glance at her with raised brows. She gives a faint smile. “Taken care of. I’m coming with you.”

“How’d you manage it?” you whisper back.

“Let’s just say that Nerita helped. I’ll explain later,” she replies, and you glance at the impassive first mate who’s currently unlocking the door to the Governor’s cell. Ushering the older man out, Nerita swipes her eyes over the three of you.

“All right, time to go. Nobody try anything foolish… at least not yet,” she mutters, nodding towards the stairs in a clear sign for you to get a move on.

You frown as you watch the Spaniard guard the Governor closely with her gaze while he’s climbing up the stairs, wondering what was going on with her. Judging from Gemma’s words, she had gotten help from Nerita, but why? Why would the Spaniard help you out in any way? This was Delgado’s first mate, after all! This new turn of events has you at loss, but nevertheless, you’re willing to trust Gemma’s judgment on the issue. After all, it could hardly make matters any worse, right?

Curbing your curiosity for the time being, you start trudging towards the stairs with Gemma as Nerita climbs them up after the Governor.

* * * *

Inez’s watchful brown eyes scanned the tavern she was stuck in, la Risa del Diablo, with mild distaste. Aguadilla, Puerto Rico, had as many taverns as any normal town to pick from, so why did Delgado had to choose one of the seediest ones? The inn was smoky, dimly lit, and full of rowdy, debauched people who all seemed to be seeking out ways to slake their desires for pleasures, be it for a pint of ale or the paid comfort of a woman’s lap. Shouts and calls in various languages filled the air, and Inez was certain her ears would be ringing by the time she would finally be relieved from her watch, so to say. Inez was neither shy or naïve woman and had seen her fair share of places like this, and although she didn’t condemn people who frequented them, she still had no desire to dwell in them herself if she had a say it the matter.

And so it was that she hadn’t been given a say in the matter – she had been ordered to go by Captain Delgado herself. And there was no arguing with the Captain.

Stifling a bored sigh, Inez took another sip of her mug of now lukewarm ale, grimacing at the foul taste. Pushing the tankard away, she fixed her eyes on the tall form of her Captain once again. She was seated by one of the round table at the back of the establishment, leaning back on her chair and looking smugly satisfied with herself, like a cat that was playing with a mouse before the kill. Delgado’s gleaming black tresses and crisp black shirt melded in with the shadows, but Inez could just about make out the slight smirk that played about her lips. Delgado had wanted precisely that particular table she was seated in now, never mind that it had already been taken by the time they got in the tavern. Inez had no idea as to why, and didn’t ask; she knew better that to question her Captain’s motives. It had not taken too much of a trouble for Delgado to scare away the previous patrons that had occupied the table, two half-inebriated men. Inez was surprised the other didn’t wet himself, so terrified he had seemed.

Inez was seated by the bar counter herself, not too far away from the Captain. She was to wait patiently until this Captain Sparrow finally made his appearance, and then she could be off to the shady inn Delgado kept the hostages, that Byrne woman and the Governor. Inez cursed this damn tavern once again and her wretched luck of being stuck with this silly task. Carmen could’ve handled this, since she was so eager to obey every whim of Delgado’s no matter how insane. But no, she had been given control over the rest of the crew since Nerita was away as well, currently keeping an eye on Byrne with that mousy English woman, Gemma. Why on earth Nerita suffered her around and even allowed her to go with them to the town was something Inez couldn’t even begin to understand… perhaps there was some truth to Carmen’s suspicions about Nerita, after all.

Delgado and Inez had been waiting in the tavern for over an hour already, and Inez was rapidly losing her patience. Delgado had been unnervingly calm for the entire time; indeed, it seemed to Inez that Delgado only grew more satisfied in some odd way the longer they waited. Drumming an impatient tattoo against the grimy counter with her fingers, Inez kept on with her wishes that the darn Sparrow would appear, already.

* * * *

“Here.”

You look in askance from the wet rag in front of you to Nerita who is offering it to you. Nerita rolls her eyes impatiently, going on, “To clean up your face.”

You keep your eyes on the short woman as you take the sopping rag from her, nodding your head a little. Nerita makes no attempt to respond in any manner or way, but turns away and stalks over to the dirty window of the small room of the shabby inn you three are currently in.

“Why exactly are you doing all this?” you voice the question that has been plaguing you for a while already, both curiousness and suspicion in your tone.

“Not out of the goodness of my heart, that’s for certain,” Nerita replies in the brusque manner you’ve come to expect from her.

You glance at Gemma, who’s standing by the door of the small room and see her watching Nerita with a small frown upon her face. You shrug mentally and press the wet rag against the side of your face, holding it there and hoping the water dilutes the dried up blood away. Your worst thirst has been slaked thanks to the glass of water Gemma provided you earlier, from which you’re very grateful. The woozy, stuffy feeling inside your head still prevails, but as long as you sit still like you are doing now, it doesn’t bother you overly much.

The boat ride from the ship to the shores of Aguadilla had been unpleasant, to say the least. The bright sunlight had all but doubled up your pounding headache, and then you had to endure both the crew’s and, worst of all, Delgado’s taunts on the deck. Delgado had looked so smug after seeing your state that you’d felt like smacking the blasted smirk right off her lips. If only you’d had the strength to do so. Then, after having cramped into the small, rickety boat, you had been nauseated by the rocking of the boat over the waves in your poor state. This had lead into more humiliation on your part, since you had to lean over the edge of the boat and finally heave out what little you had in your stomach. More taunting and laughing concerning your “weak stomach” had ensued among the Spaniards. After long, agonizing moments, you’d finally reached the shore, and, after the first mate had conversed shortly with Delgado, were dragged away by Nerita and Gemma. Gemma at least tried to look after you with a bit more compassion than she short Spaniard, but at least Nerita didn’t believe into gripping your arm hard enough to leave permanent indentations on it like Carmen had.

So, you had been taken through the bustling coastal town, more or less supported by the two women, and brought into this shabby inn that had truly seen better days. Even Tortuga had classier places than the rat hole you are stuck in now. The room has one wiry bed on which you’re sitting on, one rickety chair, and a bulky drawer of some sort. Faint light poured in from the grimy window, throwing some illumination on the dusty wooden walls.

“Then why?” you persist, rubbing the wet rag gently over your bloodstained lid. If you could get enough away to be able to open your eye, you would be satisfied.

Nerita’s shoulders rise and fall, giving away her soundless sigh. “Does it really matter? I have my reasons,” she replies in unexpectedly subdued manner.

Wiping the lid carefully, you bring down the rag and see that it’s been stained faintly with reddish brown. Lifting your hand to brush away the flakes and crumbs of dried blood, you almost heave a sigh of relief as the abrasive layer over the lid is finally gone. Opening your right eye and blinking furiously, you’re glad to finally see with it again. Starting to scrub away the rest of the blood off from your cheek, you glance at Gemma to see if she has anything to add to this matter. She meets your gaze but shakes her head a little, signalling either that she doesn’t know or she doesn’t wish to talk about it now. Rolling your eyes slightly, you concentrate on the task of cleaning yourself, wishing that someone would finally start explaining things to you soon.

* * * *

La Risa del Diablo, the Laughter of the Devil.

Now, Jack Sparrow wasn’t a man to slight a tavern, any tavern, no matter how lacking they were in simple refinement and general class. He knew far better than to judge a book by its cover, as the saying goes. However, this particular establishment was one that Jack had honestly thought never to step his foot into ever again in his life. Funny, really, how he was proved wrong in that specific issue… suppose this meant he had to stop making such definite assumptions altogether.

“Is this it?” a softly cultivated voice beside the pirate asked, a faint note of impatience in his voice.

“Aye, this is it indeed,” Jack replied, a hint of reluctant remembrance in his grave tone. “However,” he went on a bit more lively, turning to face the young man accompanying him, “I honestly believe I should go in there by me onesies and get this over with,” Jack raised his ring-adorned pointer as he saw Will was about to protest, “Oblige me, man! This is no time for squabbling.”

Will bit back his comment and nodded his agreement, if clearly reluctantly. “Very well. Fine.”

Jack nodded once in thanks, wagging his finger just slightly. “Good. I’ll be giving you a sign should I be in need of your able assistance,” he said whist already sauntering past Will, tapping the young man’s shoulder once with his finger as he did so.

“Jack!” Will hissed in exasperation, causing Jack to halt his steps and glance behind his shoulder with an impatient look. “What sign will that be?”

Jack thought for a second, dark pupils making a quick, unfocused zigzag motion as he did so. “I’m sure you’ll recognize it when you hear it,” he remarked with a hint of a humorous smirk, before turning and disappearing in the tavern, leaving Will outside to roll his eyes in mounting frustration at the pirate’s impossibility.

Just as Jack had suspected, the tavern hadn’t changed notably over the years. Places like this rarely did. Even the table arrangements were still the same, as far as Jack could recall. However, at the moment he couldn’t care less about the décor of the tavern, and as his sharp eyes picked out the table at the back of the building and the tall figure seated by it, Jack’s fingers started to positively tingle with the urge to curl around the smooth handle of his trusty pistol and level the barrel neatly between the Spaniards eyes to teach her a little lesson she surely wouldn’t forget. He could catch no sight of either you or the Governor, but on the other hand he really hadn’t expected to. Delgado was perverted that way and got her kicks from playing games with people.

Jack’s lightly swaying gait was measured and purposeful as he sauntered towards Delgado, darkened eyes fixed on her shadowy form as he approached. His face was impassive and gave nothing away, but the anger in his bearing was clearly evident to the other patrons of the taverns who wisely moved out of the pirate’s path, giving him a clear coast to Delgado’s table. As Jack drew nearer, he gave into his impulse and wrapped his long fingers around the butt of the pistol that was tucked into his sash, the smoothness under his palm giving him a peculiar rush of power. He also didn’t fail to notice, much to his wicked enjoyment, how Delgado flinched ever so slightly at the gesture as she though he was about to pull the weapon out. Well, the woman indeed should be on her guard, for Jack was anything but amused – and when incensed, the eccentric pirate was a force to reckon with.

Jack flickered his eyes to the side, quickly following Delgado’s gaze as she turned her head slightly and nodded to someone at the bar. Jack picked out the brown-haired woman that slid down from the stool next to the counter, making her way towards the entrance. However, before he got to dwell on the other woman any longer, Delgado greeted him with flourish.

“Jack!” she smirked, having regained her composure. “So nice of you to join me. Do sit down, why don’t you?”

Jack stood in front of the table, keeping one hand on the handle of his pistol casually as he looked down at the seated Spaniard in distinctively unimpressed manner. “I would, but the present company doesn’t quite live up to my standards, I’m afraid.”

Delgado hummed in faint amusement. “No chitchat today, then?”

Jack’s narrow-eyed look was chilly. “I don’t particularly care to associate with petty thieves or cowardly murderers.”

Now it was Delgado’s turn to narrow her eyes coldly, and she clenched her jaw hard. “And apparently you think I fall into both categories?”

“Well,” Jack said, giving a quick, very insincere smile. “If the shoe fits...” Jack went on in dangerously stern, no-nonsense tone before Delgado managed to formulate a response. “Be that as it may, I’m in no mood to chew over semantics, especially not with you, so why don’t we just get this off-putting little get-together over and done with. Where is she?”

Delgado raised a cool eyebrow. “Aren’t you forgetting you were supposed to bring me something, Captain?”

With an angry growl, Jack suddenly slammed the piece of parchment loudly on the table, causing Delgado to flinch for the second time. “Don’t make me ask again, for your own sake,” he ground out, keeping his palm flat over the map piece and staring at Delgado unwaveringly with furious eyes.

Slightly annoyed that her composure had been rankled momentarily, Delgado sneered. “Your precious missy is located in the Old Inn by the marketplace... room number four. Governor Swann, however, resides currently in the inn next to the smithy, a block before the Old Inn. I’m sure you’ll find them just fine.”

“Give me one good reason,” Jack spoke slowly in low tone, never evading his eyes from Delgado's. “As to why I should leave you to sit here in peace and not put a bullet between you eyes? That would save the Commodore the bother, and quite frankly, I would personally gain some enjoyment of it.”

“Because!” Delgado hissed, bringing her face a fraction closer to Jack’s, “your darling lady is hardly alone in her suite. Unless you get to her in the next fifteen minutes, I have instructed my women to put a bullet between her eyes,” she smirked. “The same goes to the Governor. The clock is ticking away, Jack. You’d better make haste if you really want them back while they still draw breath.”

The dangerous flash in Jack’s stormy eyes should’ve been a warning enough for Delgado. Before she could comprehend, Jack’s arm had already lunged forward quicker than she thought he was capable, and Delgado abruptly realized that Jack’s palm was pressing against her throat, fingers curling around her neck as he tightened his grip and pulled Delgado closer, forcing her to stand up. Delgado flung her hands quickly on top of the table to brace herself. Normally, Jack wouldn’t even think of treating a woman in such fashion, but Delgado he no longer considered one; this was the last straw. Jack was absolutely livid as he stared into her widened eyes.

“Listen closely, you damned wench,” he snarled, enraged, black eyes burning with fury. “If you’ve harmed even a hair on her head, I swear I’ll hunt you down and you’ll be begging me for quarter. Nobody touches my treasure and gets away with it, savvy?!”

Without waiting for an answer, Jack shoved her back into her seat roughly and turned on his heel, striding out of the tavern without a backwards glance.

Delgado coughed and gasped while rubbing her throat, missing Jack’s departure entirely. Her grey eyes fixed themselves on the parchment piece that rested over the table, and she drew a faintly wheezing breath.

“Looking forward to it already, Jack.”

* * * *

You and Gemma both jump as the door to the dingy room suddenly flings open and a woman with brown hair steps in, slamming the door shut again behind her. Throwing a distasteful look in your direction, she fixes her brown eyes on Nerita. “Sparrow’s here.”

Your head snaps up at the name. Jack is here? Where here? In the town? In the inn?

Nerita nods her head in acknowledgement. “Then we wait, like we’re supposed to.”

The woman makes a face, before smiling wickedly. “Do we really have to…?”

Nerita gives the other Spaniard a stern glance. “Yes Inez, we have to.”

You’re hardly paying attention to this conversation; your mind has been running mile a minute ever since the news of Jack’s presence. You have to get out of this bloody room and go find him before the trade is made... or has it already been made? Damn it, but you don’t know! The minutes stretch on and on, seeming like eternity. The wound on your forehead has started to throb painfully and the skin around it feels hot. The pounding inside your skull seems to be ceaseless, but luckily the dizziness has mostly cleared. Moments pass by sluggishly, and Inez starts to pace about the tiny room restlessly.

“Haven’t we waited long enough? I’m sure it’s been fifteen minutes, already!” Inez suddenly bursts, waving with her hands slightly.

“We’ll wait,” comes Nerita’s insistent reply.

Inez snorts, shaking her head. “You just don’t have the guts to do it, apparently. Fine. I’ll do it for you,” she mutters, pulling her pistol from her belt and cocking it, pointing the barrel at you.

Bloody hell. It suddenly becomes all too clear to you what the Spaniards were waiting for. Biting your teeth, you close your eyes as you wait for the inevitable to happen. A shot echoes in the room, accompanied by Gemma’s startled scream. You wait for the pain to hit you, but nothing happens. You open your eyes as you hear a strange sound of something crumpling, and see Inez lying prone on the floor, a crimson splotch staining her pastel shirt right over her heart, spreading slowly.

You blink in astonishment, and shift your eyes to Nerita who’s tucking her still smoking pistol back into her belt. She just killed Inez, her own crewmate, in order to keep her from shooting you.

“What the hell was that all about?” you cry out, unable to hold in your disbelieving reaction.

Nerita gives you an impassive glance as she fumbles with her pistol. “I’m sure you know there the door is. I suggest you use it while you can.”

“But…” you begin, but cut yourself short. You honestly don’t understand the woman and why she’s doing this. “Why?”

“Because…” Nerita says, watching you for a moment. “Suppose because it’s the right thing to do. And I never liked Inez anyway. She was plotting behind my back with Carmen to kill me soon, so I returned the favour. Gemma let me in on the ploy, so this, I guess, is my way to repay,” she says, glancing at Gemma, who bows her head. “Take her with you. So she can finally be free again.”

Now Gemma looks up and, after a moment, gives Nerita a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

Nerita just rolls her eyes, not about to get soft. “Get out of here, already. The Governor is held in the inn one block down, next to the smithy. You’ll find it.”

“But Delgado will kill you if she finds out,” you point out, frowning.

Nerita just nods. “Yes.”

You know that you shouldn’t feel sorry for this woman. She has likely killed many with Delgado. She doesn’t deserve it, really. And yet, you can’t help but to feel at least slightly concerned. “Give me your pistol, would you?” you ask Nerita.

Nerita raises a brow. “Why? It’s empty now and I have no shots or powder with me.”

“Do it,” you insist. With a shrug, Nerita complies, handing you the weapon. You weight it in your hand, and stand up shakily. Forcing away the wooziness that instantly attacks you, you look Nerita in the eyes. “I’m grateful for your help. Which is why I’ll help you in return, even if it might not seem so now.”

Quickly, you smash the butt of the pistol against Nerita’s temple, knocking her out. You wince in sympathy as she crumples on the floor. “Sorry,” you say to the unconscious woman. But this way it would look as if it were you and Gemma who killed Inez and attacked Nerita before escaping, and it would be less likely for Delgado to accuse anyone else. You hope.

“Let’s go. We have to find the Governor first and then get to Jack. The harbour, we need to get to the harbour, the Pearl will be there…” you ramble, rubbing your left temple and trying to clear your spinning head.

Gemma appears next to you, looking worried as she takes your arm. “Are you feeling nauseous again?”

“No,” you dismiss her worries, shaking your head gingerly. “No, I’m fine enough. Come now, we have to leave. Now.”

“Wait,” Gemma says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the map piece previously owned by Delgado. “You take this now, I’m afraid I’ll lose it.”

You take the piece from her and stuff it once again down your bodice. “Thanks. Now, we really must go!” you say forcefully, and you both start making your way to the door, Gemma insisting on holding you by the arm in support.

The hallway behind the door is dark and the air that hangs about is stale, only serving to add to the blurred feeling inside your head. Your muscles ache horrendously and the dizziness returns, causing your steps to sway in near drunken fashion as the two of you stagger along the long hallway. Small pebbles and other various litters lying on the hard, grimy floor prickle at the bare soles of your feet unpleasantly, and you curse for not taking Inez’s boots. She wouldn’t have needed them any longer, anyway.

“Whoa…” you mutter as your head spins and pounds at the same time, forcing you to close your eyes and flinging one hand out to brace yourself against the wall while Gemma does her best to keep you upright on the other side.

“This isn’t going to work,” Gemma’s voice is distressed. “You’re too sick to move!”

“Nonsense,” you slur, your stubbornness ignited as you push yourself away from the wall with what little strength you have left. “Keep going, let’s just round this corner…” you mumble, although you’re feeling your strength wane with every passing moment.

As you’re struggling to keep your senses somewhat clear and rounding the approaching corner to the left at the same time, you realize that you’re about to collide with somebody with similar intents of rounding the corner from the other side until it’s too late; your eyes widen and you let out a startled yelp as your front slams squarely against a solid male form, eliciting a similar noise of surprise from the other party – everything happens so quickly you can barely comprehend it – out of instinct, the man supports you by the waist as you throw your own arms around him for support as your already precarious balance falters and you’re about to fall over. Your fingers claw at his clothing as you struggle to keep yourself steady, and your face hits his chest…

…and instantly, your nose is flooded with different scents that mix into a heady combination together; leather, salt water, rum, sun and something just purely masculine…

“Jack?” you cry out in disbelief, your voice muffled by his chest.

“Luv?” His tone has equal amount of surprise in it as one arm circles your waist to hold your more securely to him, whilst his other hand finds your cheek, tilting your tired head up gently to look at him. You smile stupidly at his dumbfounded look as he stares down at you with those gorgeous brown eyes.

“I’m so glad to see youuuuh…” the last word draws out to a faint whisper as your exhaustion finally overwhelms you and you crumple weakly against Jack as your consciousness slips away once again – the last thing you recall is how Jack’s eyes widen as he hurries to correct his pose to stop your limp body from falling to the floor.

* * * * *

A/N: Phew! 15 freaking pages! The longest chapter I've written, probably. Maybe. Anyway! Not exactly the reunion you were all hoping for, eh? Ah, don't worry, a proper one is coming up next. :) Hope you enjoyed it, ta ta!

* * * * *

All activity aboard the Black Pearl had ceased the moment Captain Jack Sparrow had reappeared with an unfamiliar, timorous girl in tow who was glancing around with notable apprehension. Jack strode towards the Captain’s quarters in swift but measured steps, cradling your unconscious form close in his arms. He paid no heed to the stares of his crewmembers in his forcing need to see for your well-being, and so missed the lurking concern in the men’s eyes for their injured friend and crewmate.

“Jack!” Elizabeth Swann’s equally demanding and worried voice cut through the air as she made her way through the pirates and hastened to walk briskly alongside the Captain, having to quicken her pace considerably to keep up with Jack’s steps. Shocked intake of breath was all she could produce at the sight of her unconscious cousin, and her mouth closed and opened a few times as she searched for words.

“Jack, what…” she started, confusion and fear mixing in her tone. “Oh God, what happened to her? Where’s father, is he all right? And where is Will?!” the swarm of questions finally tumbled out of her mouth rapidly, her voice rising an octave towards the end. “Jack, answer me!”

“Calm yourself down, Elizabeth,” Jack replied with a rough edge in his low tone, never slowing down his pace or glancing at the young woman beside him. “As far as I know, your father is as all right as can be. Will has in all probability already reached him and should be back any moment.”

“As all right as can be?” Elizabeth repeated in incredulous cry, and Jack recognized the insistent tone immediately, knowing she was far from finished. However, he had no time for this now. He halted his steps abruptly and finally levelled his dark eyes upon Elizabeth’s, his tone taking on the same commanding rumble as it did when he addressed his crew.

“This is not the time or the place for this argument, missy! Your father is likely in much better shape than your cousin here is, so if you insist on keeping up with this, I’ll be happy to oblige after I’ve taken care of her!” Jack remarked vehemently but not unkindly. Softening his tone a degree, he went on, “I understand that you’re concerned about your father, but for the time being, there’s nothing else to do but to wait.”

Elizabeth swallowed the uneasy feel from her throat, knowing Jack was right. Nodding her head, she heaved a quiet sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Jack caught a slight movement from the corner of his eye, only now recalling the girl that had tagged along at his request was standing there. The basic instinct to have a healthy amount of distrust toward every new person thrown at his path had made Jack spare a couple of brief moments to get a few things out of the shy girl at the shabby inn, for instance, who she was and just what was she doing in the hallway with you, but hadn’t started to question the timid girl any further; he’d been too single-minded in his need to get you back to the Pearl as quickly as possible. Still, what little she’d told him had given Jack a general idea about the girl and gave away the fact that she’d been helpful in some way, so he’d told the girl to come along.

“Elizabeth,” Jack spoke in a bit hushed tone, glancing from the odd girl to Elizabeth. “Take care of that girl and see what she knows about this entire bloody mess, won’t you? Ta, luv.”

With that, Jack was moving forward again as if he’d never stopped in the first place, not staying around to listen to Elizabeth’s response. Blowing air between her teeth in exasperated manner, Elizabeth counted to ten in her head and forced herself to calm down. Then, she turned around to regard the new girl who appeared distinctively uncomfortable and out of place, standing there in the middle of the deck like a lost lamb. Elizabeth gave the girl a kind smile as she approached her. As annoying as Jack’s brusque request that almost neared on a command was, at least it provided her something to take her troubled mind off of her father and Will for a little while…

After Jack had dealt with Elizabeth, it took mere moments before Anamaria pushed herself roughly through the throng of crewmen and was hot on Jack’s heels, the mulatto woman biting back a strong expletive as she caught sight of your poor state.

Worry gnawed at Anamaria’s heart instantly; despite the rather long time that she had known you and shared both a cabin and all the misadventures Jack had a habit of getting everyone into with you, never had she seen you unconscious and in what looked to be such a weak shape; to her, you seemed almost fragile. And Anamaria knew for a fact that you were anything but weak, which is why something in her gut twisted painfully at the sight of your still form in Jack’s arms. Rationality drove past worry, however, as Anamaria snapped herself into reality and forced her concern to the back of her mind. There would be time for that later, but at the moment, you needed the help of your friends.

Taking a few brisk paces to move past Jack, Anamaria reached the doors to his quarters first and pulled them wide open before stepping out Jack’s way. Briefly, two pairs of dark eyes met at the doorstep in acknowledgment, a wordless affirmation of support between friends, before both kept on moving further into the spacious cabin.

* * *

It’s a curious state of fatigue that both your mind and body are under; you’re only barely coherent and your body feels limp and uncontrollable. Your tired eyes refuse to open and your mouth is unable to form lucid words. But through the foggy, black haze, you can make out the nebulous medley of different tones and sounds that seem to fill the air, if not the exact words; it’s almost like being underwater, the sounds turning muffled and unclear. You’re faintly aware of the unyielding surface beneath you, and realize foggily that you must be lying on your back with something softer propped under your head. There’s a hot throbbing somewhere around your forehead and temple, but you’re too far away to fully understand the cause of it.

Rising above the din of noises you can’t identify is a strong, commanding voice that says something, and another, similarly gruff but less authoritative tone that replies. Abruptly, there’s a peculiar pulling sensation on the skin of your left forearm that hurts vaguely, but it ceases as quickly as it begins. Another voice speaks up, much lighter than the previous ones but none less commanding; there’s a note of distress in it.

Sudden pressure on your brow causes a jolt of pain to slice through your temple, and a purely instinctive, weak groan reverberates somewhere from your throat in response to the sharp sting. The involuntary sound of yours prompts more activity from the elusive surroundings, and slowly you become aware of more pressure around your head, but this brings you no pain or alarm. You hear a low tone speaking, more clearly than the ones before, as if this comes somewhere closer. The words remain muffled and indistinguishable to you still, but despite of your only half-coherent mind, you sense that the tone is soothing and coaxing.

You hear and want to respond, but you lack both the clarity and control to do so. Through the shroud of the heavy lethargy that weighs on your semi-coherent awareness, you blearily wish you could grasp onto the words, but you simply cannot. The strong, pleasant murmur picks up again, but this time it seems to come yet closer to you and the tone turns clearly more compelling. You make an effort, scraping up what little strength you have left in the back of your mind to keep holding onto what weak lucidity you have, but it all seems in vain as your delicate control starts waning…

* * *

Striding over to the round mahogany table, Jack quickly but gently lowered you to lie upon the flat surface, supporting your neck with one hand as he lowered your head with more care than Anamaria had ever witnessed him display. With his hands now free, he snatched off his hat and threw it carelessly on the floor, his effects following soon after as well, clanging against the floorboards.

Anamaria had, in the meanwhile, started to examine your prone body critically, frowning as she eyed the prominent long cut on your forehead. A loud clatter echoed in the room as Jack impatiently pushed one of the chairs by the table out of his way with his foot, the chair falling over in the process. Sliding one hand under your neck again, he lifted your head enough to slip a pillow underneath it while his dark eyes snapped over to the portly quartermaster who now rushed in, concerned eyes on the woman on the table.

“Gibbs,” Jack spoke in calm but distinctly authoritative tone as he shrugged off his long coat, “Water, both cold and warm. Some bandages and rum, as well. Make it swift, mate.”

“Aye, Captain,” Gibbs agreed sombrely with a curt nod. “Be here in a flash.”

Anamaria pinched the skin of your forearm lightly between her fingers in a test, now allowing herself to utter a curse under her breath as your skin stuck up slightly; normally it would smooth back instantly.

“She’s dehydrated,” Anamaria announced with a twinge of worry in her tone.

Jack hissed a cross oath, dark eyes flashing as he cursed Delgado all over again. “Shouldn’t have been surprised,” he muttered as he pressed the back of his hand lightly against your forehead, minding the wound. You felt warm, a bit too warm for comfort, just as he had expected. If you had temperature, it wouldn’t mix well with the dehydration. You needed some liquids back into your body as quickly as possible, but in order to do that, you had to wake up first. Knowing he had to get you to respond, Jack already hated himself as he lifted one hand and placed his thumb gently upon your cut brow, murmuring a quiet apology as he applied a bit of pressure on the inflamed wound.

The slightest twitch of your head and the weak groan from your throat made him stop immediately and place his hands on both sides of your head, lowering his head a little closer as he stared at your closed lids and dark lashes. “Luv? Can you hear me? Come on now, you need to wake up for a moment,” he spoke to you in low, affectionate tone.

The warmth in Jack’s voice made Anamaria glance at the Captain, unable to keep the astonishment from her face. However, Jack’s undivided attention was on you, as he brushed your hair back from your face and spoke to you again. This was a whole new side to Jack Sparrow, one that she had never seen before. Suddenly, Anamaria felt vaguely uncomfortable to be witnessing the scene, as if she was intruding on something private that she shouldn’t. Taking a few steps away from Jack in attempts to give him some semblance of privacy, Anamaria busied herself with examining your horribly bare legs and feet.

“You just have to do things the hard way, don’t you?” Jack murmured as faint, sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Come now, grant me one favour and let me see those beautiful eyes of yours again, darling… what do you say?” his voice dropped into a whisper as he brushed his thumb across your left brow, before speaking a just little louder again. “Quit being so damn stubborn all the time, woman. It can get a tad troublesome at times, you know, even if I was foolish enough to claim the contrary for a time or two… don’t take me so literally, luv. Well, not on all occasions.”

Anamaria bit the inside of her cheek as Jack kept talking to you, only now realizing the full extent of his feelings for you. She had known it for a longer while already, that her Captain and best friend had feelings stronger than friendship binding them to one another, but only now did the underlying emotion in Jack’s tone made her understand the full scale of it all, and it was nearly overwhelming. She was almost grateful when Gibbs and Ladbroc burst in the cabin in their haste, the ordered necessities with them.

“Got everything you wanted, Jack,” Gibbs announced, dropping the bandages and cloths on the table and setting the bottle of rum next to them before hurrying to help Ladbroc with the water buckets, although that was hardly necessary; Ladbroc was the strongest man aboard the Pearl. Throwing a concerned glance at you, the tall man excused himself and shut the doors to the quarters behind him.

“Thank you Gibbs,” Jack said distractedly, his eyes examining the cut upon your brow critically, pushing some of your hair back.

“Bad?” Gibbs questioned as he took a step closer, squinting as he tried to evaluate the wound as well.

“Not too deep, fortunately,” Jack replied with strained calmness as his mind worked on the cause for this. It was cut with a blade, no question about it, but the length and shape indicated a calculated, deliberate intention to hurt, and the notion made Jack’s blood boil.

“Need stitching up, ye think?” the quartermaster went on, and Jack gave a small shake of his head, eyes still fixed on the mostly scabbed cut.

“I’m thinking it’ll heal without. The clotted blood has already sealed most of the edges together nicely. Best to leave it as it is. It might leave a mark, though,” he muttered the last bit with distaste, hating the idea of you coming out of this with more scars on your body. “It must be cleaned, at any rate,” he spoke up after a moment, nodding his thanks to Gibbs who was already handing him a clean cloth and shoved the bottle closer.

“There’s another one on her arm,” Anamaria said. “This one’s older, though. Already sealed,” she went on, running the pad of her finger lightly over the reddish black crust that covered the horizontal cut in the middle of your left forearm. She couldn’t miss the purplish bruises that bloomed upon your arm, either, seeing as the entire sleeve of the tattered dress you were still wearing had been torn away entirely.

Jack assessed the new cut quickly with his eyes, knowing they should be relieved if those proved to be the worst injuries on your body, but every new bruise and abrasion that his eyes picked up on your skin made his simmering fury for Delgado increase all the more. Yanking the cork away from the bottle with a bit more force than necessary, Jack wetted the cloth in his hand carefully with the amber liquid and shoved the bottle in Gibbs’ hands. Cradling the side of your face with one hand, Jack tilted your head up just a little and started to carefully clean the wound and the reddened skin around it. As he’d hoped, the alcohol seeping in the wound brought a reaction out of you as you abruptly drew in a sharp breath and tried to turn your face away. Almost without even realizing it himself, Jack started to murmur soothing words under his breath as he patted the cloth gently over the wound, cleaning the dirt and dried blood off the surrounding skin. Suddenly, your hands rose weakly, making a half-hearted attempt to claw at your sides as the burning sting made your breathing pattern pick up. Jack frowned, watching your hands… and uttered a foul curse.

“Is she still wearing that blasted thing?!” he shouted in annoyance, cursing himself for not realizing it sooner. “Anamaria, get rid of that bloody corset, and do it now!”

Quickly, Anamaria did as she was told, producing a knife from her boot and hastily slicing through the dirtied fabric of the bodice, from the low neckline down to the waist where mere rags were left of the actual skirt. Pushing the decorative fabric aside, Anamaria made quick work of the front fastenings on the corset and cut them in two, the tight corset immediately losing its stiff form and allowing your ribs to expand normally. Immediately, your breathing eased down and your hands stilled, falling limply at your sides.

Anamaria shook her head, disgusted by the contraption you’d had to wear for days as she cut the dress away carefully so it could be pulled off along with the corset; with Gibbs’ help, they managed to slip the remains of the dress and the darned corset from you without having to move you much.

Jack was intently focused on cleaning the long cut on your brow, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught something against the light shift you were wearing under the corset and turned his head a little to see; there was a rolled up piece of parchment resting neatly between your breasts, the head of the piece sticking out slightly from the neckline of the shift. Raising a brow at the inventive hiding place, Jack pulled the piece out, frowning as he shifted his gaze from the piece to your unaware countenance.

“What’ve you got there?” Gibbs voiced curiously as he eyed at the piece, but Jack didn’t reply as he rolled the parchment open; he was having an unpleasant feeling about this. He stared at the yellowed, dry parchment and the inky patterns upon it, knowing exactly what it was. He clenched his jaw hard as he counted together one and one, now having a fairly good idea what might have happened aboard the Spanish galleon.

“It’s Delgado’s half of the map,” Jack finally said darkly, clearly holding onto his patience.

There would be only one explanation as to why you had it; you’d nicked it from Delgado. Somehow, you’d managed to hold onto it for his long, but the theft hadn’t went without a harsh reprimand, as your poor shape proved. Resisting the urge to clench his fist around the half and crush it into dust, Jack closed his eyes and swore under his breath. You had to have known how incredibly stupid such a stunt would be, so why the hell had you done it in the first place? Bloody obstinate, foolish woman! You would surely get a piece of his mind just as soon as you got better. But now, his main concern was to make sure you got better to hear what he had to say. Everything else could be and had to be postponed.

“Well, this’ll have to wait,” Jack spoke up with determination, rolling the piece up again and handing it to Gibbs for the time being. Pushing the matter aside, Jack concentrated on you again, gently feeling the length of your arms to make sure there weren’t any breaks. The sleeveless shift left them bare, exposing the bruised, scraped flesh to his eyes – each one he saw made the anger that had already cooled down a little to sweep through him anew in hot waves, and Jack found himself regretting for not having squeezed Delgado’s neck a little bit harder when he had the opportunity. He recalled the vow he’d made to the Spaniard in his fury, and was determined to keep it; she would come to regret this, in one way or the other. Jack Sparrow, after all, was a man of his word.

To assure himself, Jack carefully felt your each rib through the shift, comforted to find them all intact. Anamaria had begun to clear some of the dirt away from your face and arms with a rag wetted in warm water, paying attention to be careful with the bruises. Moving on, Jack grit his teeth again as he saw the multitude of scuffs, small cuts and contusions of all size dappling your legs, left bare by the hem of the shift that reached you to the knees. Jack knew there probably weren’t anything broken in your legs since you had walked – or staggered, more likely – out of the inn room by yourself and out to the hallway. It was the fact that you’d been forced to walk about with no shoes on since the night of the attack that concerned Jack the most as he slipped his hand under your left ankle and lifted carefully.

Jack stared at your sole with irate solemnity in his eyes, finding the skin exactly in the shape as he’d suspected; reddened, full of little, cuts and pricks, not to mention spots where the first layers of skin had been scraped off entirely. Some were still bleeding vaguely, not having the chance to heal properly. The cuts were all dirty, as was the entire sole, and the skin around them was visibly irritated, some looked like they were already infected.

“Sorry for bringing the wretched matter up now, Jack… but what of Delgado?” Gibbs suddenly enquired hesitantly, eyeing the Captain under his bushy brows.

What of Delgado, indeed? Frankly, Jack couldn’t give a damn about Delgado and her doings at the moment, not while he was still tending to you, but he knew that he had to give thought on how to proceed next soon. It hadn’t yet been one full hour since the meeting gone foul at the tavern in the town, but Jack was almost positive that Delgado was now on her way to her ship, possibly even having set sail already. He knew she had dropped the anchor of the Maldito somewhere safe and hidden, somewhere a little further away from the city. That was the way she operated, kept things away from prying eyes for as long as she could to maintain the element of surprise she preferred in her activities. She now had the entire map, but then again, so did Jack.

As far as cartography went, Jack wasn’t an incompetent in that field, either. His father Joshua had been one before taking on a more adventurous life of a highway man and a general rogue, and apparently pick pocketing wasn’t the only talent of Joshua’s that had rubbed off on Jack. Later, Lucas Fowler had taught Jack that every self-respecting pirate knew at least a little of how to copy maps and charts and make ones themselves, and Jack was nothing but a self-respecting man. And so, on one of the sleepless nights while you and then Governor were abducted, Jack had spent hours sitting by his desk, bathed the warm light of the candles, meticulously copying the old piece he was supposed to hand over to Delgado in exchange of the hostages. He had contemplated on giving Delgado the copied piece and not making it entirely accurate, but that would’ve solved nothing. She would’ve seen it was a fraud and would likely come back in another second to retrieve the original piece, no matter the cost – and that was something he didn’t need, as there would be no guarantees in what shape the hostages would be returned. And now, it seemed as he had made a reasonably sound decision with that.

“I’m thinking the first thing we ought do is to piece up the halves and see if the X marks the spot, so to say…” Jack muttered, in a bit distracted manner while checking your other sole and frowning irritably at the sight. “And if so, where would that particular X take us. Delgado, no doubt, is doing the same as we speak. She won’t be wasting her time lingering here after she has solved out the location of the Abyss.”

Gibbs nodded his head slowly in agreement although Jack couldn’t see it since his attention was on your injuries. “We should probably move away from the port until then, Jack.”

“And so we will, just as soon as William gets back with the Governor. Can’t very well leave them in Aguadilla, now can we? Elizabeth would have me head quicker than any manmade noose,” Jack said with a brief glance towards Gibbs, who was happy to see the familiar impishness starting to creep back into his eyes and play in the small grin that quirked the corner of his mouth up slightly. That was something that been mostly absent from the eccentric Captain’s face since your abduction.

“Aye, you be right about that,” Gibbs agreed with a grin of his own as he thought of the spunky Governor’s daughter he’d known both as a little girl and as an adult woman. There was fire in her, no doubt, just as there was in her cousin, too. Maybe, Gibbs ruminated absently, it was that particular spark that glowed under the surface that drew their respective significant others to them. “Do ye have anywhere in particular in mind?”

Jack thought for a moment, searching his memory for a suitable spot to anchor the Pearl for a while around Puerto Rico. Aguadilla was located on the northwestern coast of Puerto Rico, resting almost exactly in the middle of a wide, slightly convex natural bay. Jack was ready to bet on the possibility that Delgado just wanted to get to the treasures as fast as she could and would probably choose to avoid the Pearl and the Dauntless. Jack figured she must’ve chosen to set sail around towards north, simply because the northern side it was leagues closer to Aguadilla; she could then either sail around the island by its northern side and make way towards the Leeward islands or turn to east, towards Hispaniola and Tortuga. This of course depended solely on the location of the Abyss, which was crucial information when planning the next move. Be that as it may, Jack was certain she would stay on the northern side of the main lands for the time being. So, they would keep to the south… for the time being.

“Not yet, Gibbs. We’ll see to it in a moment,” Jack finally replied, curling one hand around your ankle firmly but gently, lifting it up a little as he took the rum saturated cloth Anamaria offered him.

“Erm… Captain, I’d stand on the side with that task if I were ye,” Gibbs said cautiously as he watched Jack bring the cloth closer to your sole.

“And why’s that?” Jack asked lazily as he carefully pressed the cloth against your sole, the rum soaking the cuts. Gibbs didn’t have the chance to reply as your foot twitched violently at the burning sting and you tried unconsciously first to pull your foot away, and when that failed due to Jack’s grip of your ankle, then to push the cause of the sting away – and driving your hard heel straight against Jack’s abdomen none too gently. Jack drew in a hissing breath between his teeth at the impact and closed his eyes for a moment.

“…That’s why,” Gibbs replied feebly, wincing a little in sympathy. “I mean, one doesn’t stand in front of a horse’s hoof either when cleaning it…”

Both Jack and Anamaria turned their heads slowly towards the quartermaster, Anamaria staring in incredulous bewilderment and Jack frowning, wearing his best “what the hell?” face at the comparison. Gibbs cleared his throat uneasily under their stares, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Right,” he muttered after a moment. “Think I’ll go see if the boy has gotten back with the Governor.”

With that, Gibbs made his way out of the cabin. Anamaria muttered something semi-incomprehensible about sunstrokes under her breath, and Jack pursed his lips briefly in thought, before shaking his head and returning his attention back to your feet. Carefully, he pressed the cloth back against your sole, only this time making sure to keep a bit of distance. A groan tumbled out of your mouth as he wiped the wounds clean of the dirt, despite the twitching and jerking of your foot. Anamaria paused her task for a moment and checked your face when you groaned again, seeing your eyes moving under the lids.

“I think she’s starting to come around,” she told Jack. “Taking off the corset probably helped. More oxygen to the brains and all that…”

Jack stopped, coming over to Anamaria and handing the cloth to her. “You clean her feet and bandage them, they must be kept from getting dirty again. I’ll try to get her to wake up and drink some.”

“Aye,” Anamaria nodded, taking the rag and trading places with Jack.

* * *

You hear your own groan, but can’t really comprehend you just let it out of your mouth. You feel disoriented, but not in that blurry, weak way that you did before. Awareness starts to slowly seep into your mind, awakening your senses and giving you back the control of your body. Much to your elation, you realize the tightening, constraining sensation around your torso is finally gone, but your happiness over that is short-lived as all the unmistakable pains, sores and aches come back to you as well, and another, fed up noise between a groan and growl spills from your lips. You’re getting sick and tired of being sick and tired.

“Luv?” A warm voice caresses your ears, and a warm hand your cheek. “Time to start waking up already. Come on, now…”

You draw in a deep breath, relishing the fact that you’re able to do that again, and crack your lids open, squinting a little in the light of the room with your eyes that have gotten used to the dark brig of the Maldito. You find yourself staring up into Jack’s brown orbs, comforted by their familiarity. Small smile lifts the corners of your mouth up, and you blurt the first thing that comes to your mind, “Hi again.”

“’Ello, luv,” he murmurs back, responding to your smile. “Was about damn time to wake up, too. I’m starting to be convinced you do things like this just to rile me.”

You manage a weak smirk. “No, just out of stubbornness. Isn’t that what you keep telling me all the time?”

Jack chuckles, but doesn’t respond. Instead, he just watches you for a moment in silence, concern in his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

You draw in another breath, loving the feeling of your ribs expanding normally and close your eyes for a short moment. “Oh…” you start, opening your eyes. “Like crap. Tired and dirty. But I could be worse…” you trail off, your eyes widening as you remember something. “The Governor. And Gemma. What happened to them?”

Jack shushes you as he carefully manoeuvres his arm under your pillow, against your neck, curling his hand around your shoulder as he props your torso up a little, your right shoulder resting against his chest. “Don’t worry about them, they’re fine,” he replied soothingly, slipping in a little while lie as to his knowledge, Will hadn’t yet gotten back. “The only thing you need to worry about is getting better, savvy? And I’m not hearing any arguments about that from you.”

“I’m fine,” you insist weakly, failing to bite back a small groan as your abdominal muscles give a sore jolt at the semi-sitting position.

“So I can see,” Jack says wryly.

“Here,” Anamaria hands Jack a mug of water, which he takes with his free hand. You’re ashamed to admit that you didn’t even realize she was in the cabin, too. Anamaria smiles one of her rare smiles at you. “Good to have you back, Byrne.”

You find it easy to respond to her smile. “Good to be back.”

Anamaria nods, the smile still on her lips as she moves away at your feet.

“Now luv, you have to drink. You have a bit of fever. Go slowly,” Jack adds as he brings the mug to your lips, and you drink the water greedily. Jack makes a disapproving noise from his throat, taking the mug away. “Slowly! You’ll choke otherwise.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, pacing yourself this time. The cool water feels heavenly, sliding down your parched throat. You take smaller sips in silence, hating the feeling of such helplessness that you have to be assisted with something as simple as drinking. Jack seems to somehow pick up on the thought, perhaps because it’s likely something he’d probably think himself too if the roles were reversed.

“It’s all right,” he murmurs quietly, rubbing your shoulder soothingly. “Never you mind…”

You smile slightly, taking another sip. You drain the first mug, and another one. On your third mug, your sluggish mind recalls the map. And, you also realize it’s not where you hid it. Swallowing an uneasy mouthful of water, you tilt your head to the side a little as you ask Jack quietly, “Do you have the piece…?”

Jack is silent and still for a moment, and you can almost feel him tensing up. Now, you’re sure he knows what you’re talking about. “Yes, I have it,” he finally says shortly, giving you more water that you sip again silently. It’s a calm and carefully measured answer, one that reveals to you what a casual observer would have missed; he’s angry. He has likely pieced together the hints and has an idea what happened on the Maldito, and is very pissed that you did something so stupid. And he’s right, it was stupid, you’re not denying that. But still, you figure it was worth it since you get the other half of the map… right?

“I’m sorry,” you say softly after swallowing another mouthful.

You can feel Jack sigh inaudibly. “We’ll talk about it later.”

You’re not sure if you’re looking forward to that particular talk. Anamaria has by now wrapped bandages around your left foot, leaving only your toes and heel visible. You grit your teeth as she cleanses the right sole with rum, the burning sting almost unbearable. You had no idea your soles were so badly cut; perhaps they were numbed by all the hurts and the coldness of the brig. As Anamaria begins to wrap the bandages around the right foot, you drink the rest of the water in the mug. You swallow the last mouthful just as the door to the Captain’s quarters opens and Gibbs steps in, smiling broadly to see you awake.

“Ah, ’s good to finally see you awake, lass!” he smiles. “You gave us all a bit of a fright, there.”

You smile back and nod to the portly man, too tired to respond verbally.

“Just wanted to let you know that Will and the Governor are here, both fine. And so happens to be the Commodore, too,” Gibbs gives Jack a shrewd smile. “Wants to discuss about the plan of action.”

Jack gives a semi-annoyed grunt from his throat. “But of course he does,” he mutters. “Sometimes I believe these navy types can’t ever use the toilet without a bloody plan of action!”

Gibbs chuckles in mirth and Anamaria cracks a grin, and the corner of your mouth lifts upward; not entirely because of Jack’s little barb, but because of the familiar atmosphere you are once again back in. You truly missed these people during those damn days spent about the Maldito.

Weariness starts weighing upon you again and your lids close almost on their own volition. It is annoying, really; you had already spent numerous hours out cold during the past few days, and still you’re being so damn weary all the time.

“Suppose it’s best to go deal with him, then. I need to have a word with the esteemed Commodore, in any case,” Jack says, going on with a slight edge of glee in his tone. “Gibbs, go on ahead and notify Norrington that I’ll be gracing him with my presence soon enough, if he can bear to wait.”

“Aye, Captain,” Gibbs grins, turning around and walking out of the quarters. Anamaria collects the leftover bandages and hefts one of the water buckets up by its handle, walking out as well without a word as she has a habit of doing and leaving you alone with Jack.

“Right, you’re getting some rest now, and no objections from you,” Jack says determinately, correcting his hold of you a little and sliding his free hand under your knees, scooping you up in his arms rather effortlessly.

“I could’ve walked,” you say stubbornly as you hook one arm weakly around Jack’s neck, his hair and dreads and trinkets pressing against the skin of your arm.

“Humour me this once then, obstinate woman,” Jack replies with a small smirk, playing along instead of pointing out your weakened state. He carries you easily over to his bed and gently sets you down to lie upon it, pulling the covers over you before seating himself on the edge of the bed.

“Now, then…” he murmurs, gazing down into your eyes. “I want you to stay here and get some sleep. I’ll come back to see that you’re all right after I’m rid of this little palaver with the Commodore. We’ll see about getting you a bath after you’ve rested, as well. I mean it, darling, no getting up and about, savvy?”

“Savvy,” you reply tiredly, your lids feeling heavy already.

“Good,” Jack says quietly, watching you for a brief moment before he bends down to kiss your lips, his hand rising to cup your cheek lightly.

You close your eyes as the sensations run through you, responding to the sweet kiss that’s full of wordless love and longing. You lift one hand to lay it against Jack’s neck as he deepens the kiss, gently coaxing your lips apart as his fingers stroke your skin. You sigh quietly in the kiss as Jack’s tongue caresses yours, tasting your mouth. You’re overwhelmed by his presence, his taste and scent and above all else, his familiarity and comfort after the hell aboard the Maldito; for a few precious moments, he makes you forget about everything that happened there entirely.

“You don’t know how worried I was for you,” Jack whispers huskily against your lips as he finally pulls away from you, his hand still on your cheek. “I missed you.”

You smile sadly as you look into his beautiful eyes. “I missed you, too, Jack. Very much.”

Jack smiles back slightly, drawing his fingertips lightly down your cheek and kissing your forehead. “Go to sleep, luv. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

A familiar silver trinket in his hair catches your attention, and you smile as you realize what it is. “That’s mine, mister,” you smile, flicking the round disc of silver hanging from his hair with your finger lightly.

“Aye, that it is,” Jack agrees with a smirk. “I was keeping it safe for you, and this way I’ll always know where it is.”

You smile again. “Actually, it fits you pretty nicely. You can keep it there.”

Jack raises his brows slightly and cocks his head, faint clinking of the trinkets sounding in the air. “Are you sure? I know it’s important to you.”

“I’m sure,” you respond with a small nod.

“In that case, I’d be happy to keep it,” he says, and presses another quick kiss on your lips. “Now; go to sleep.”

You grin. “I would, but you keep distracting me.”

“Ah,” Jack murmurs. “My most sincerest apologies for behaving so appallingly. As I’ve said… I resist temptation so very poorly at times,” he smirks as he stands up, sauntering over to the table and lifting up his effects from the floor, slipping the thick belt over his shoulder. “Now, I’m afraid I must go see to the Commodore’s demands, even if he’s notably less pleasant company that you are,” he says regrettably as he throws on his long coat and searches for his hat.

You close your eyes and smile, listening to Jack move about in his search for his precious hat. “You’re just saying that,” you remark drowsily. “Everyone knows you love every opportunity you get to rile up the Commodore…”

Jack’s lips quirked into a smirk. “There may be some truth in that,” he trailed off as he finally located his hat laying on the floor a few strides away. “But nevertheless, he’s still notably less pleasant company that you are,” he finished as he picked up the worn tricorne, pushing it down on his head while glancing back at you.

You were already sound asleep.

Jack stood in the middle of his quarters for a moment, just watching you sleep in his bed, assuring himself that you were finally back, safe and sound. And Jack planned on making damn sure it would stay that way from this day on.

“Sleep well, darling,” he whispered to your still form with a small smile before turning around and walking towards the doors, leaving the three additional words to be spoken a little later when you were feeling better and didn’t fall asleep in the middle of the conversation.

* * * * *

A/N: Writing this chapter took a bit longer than I thought it would. Hope you liked it! :)

* * * * *

Elizabeth stood in the middle of the Pearl’s main deck, having enveloped her father in warm embrace as Jack pushed open one of the doors leading into his quarters and stepped out, closing it quietly in his wake. The Governor seemed to be physically unscathed, never mind his slightly bedraggled outer appearance and the unmistakable air of tiredness about him. Jack took Will into account next, standing further away from the Swann’s with Commodore Norrington, conversing with him quietly. Jack sighted no injuries on the boy, but he really hadn’t expected to, either; he knew from firsthand experience that young William was an able combatant and knew his business with a sword more than well. As Norrington seemed to be engrossed in whatever it was that Will had to say, Jack decided against heading over there just yet; for the moment, that timid girl who’d accompanied you in the tavern piqued his interest more than the notion of having a chat with Norrington.

Spotting the girl not too far away by the railing of the ship, being looked after by Anamaria, Jack started making his way toward the pair – only to be stopped by a handful of his crewmen after a few steps.

“Something the matter, mate?” Jack asked, aiming his words to Ladbroc who stood before him, apparently chosen to serve as a spokesman of sorts for the entire group.

The tall man shifted his weight from one foot to another, before speaking up a mite hesitantly. “Nay, Captain. It’s just that… the lads and me were wondering about Byrne... and if she’s a’right,” Ladbroc added quietly while rubbing the back of his neck slightly awkwardly.

“I see,” Jack responded as his eyes moved from one man to another, taking in the concerned looks that some of them showed more openly than the others. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one whose skin you had gotten under, and that the men were genuinely concerned for your well-being, both as a crewmember and a friend. The observation made Jack smile slightly as he nodded.

“Aye, she should be fine after some rest. Knowing her spunk, she’ll likely be on her feet soon enough to put you lazy dogs back in line,” Jack grinned jovially, already making his way onward as the men burst into relieved laughter, the nervous tension broken.

“More like she’ll be putting the Captain in line,” Matelot cracked with a knowing grin next to Ladbroc just as soon as Jack had moved out of the hearing range. Few of the men around them gave snorts of laughter, whereas Ladbroc bestowed Matelot with a jab on the ribs and a quick frown. However, despite all his customary courteousness, even Ladbroc couldn’t quite curb his amused smirk at the statement his friend just made.

“Ha! I’d like to see that,” Moises added in mirthful tone, causing another round of good-natured chuckles to go through the men.

Ladbroc rolled his eyes, but smiled slightly. Aye, the men weren’t quite as ignorant about the semi-relationship between the Captain and the spirited lass as they sometimes gave out the impression of being. Captain Sparrow’s fierce anger over Delgado’s outrageous act of kidnap hadn’t exactly escaped anyone’s attention, nor had other, smaller things that had happened over the past year, either. It remained to be seen what would happen between the two of them from now on. However, in Ladbroc’s opinion, such a personal matter was not meant for the crew to mull over, much less to jest about – not even good-naturedly.

“Alright, already,” Ladbroc spoke up with determination, putting a stop on the particular topic before it got any further. “Everyone scram. One could almost mistake you lot for old women with all your gossipin’!”

That comment had the desired result and the men dispersed quickly to return to their duties, muttering indignant objections as they did so.

* * * *

Anamaria, who was standing a few paces away from the strange girl who in turn stared out into the sea, caught Jack’s eyes as she noticed him coming closer. Taking a few steps ahead to meet the Captain, she tipped her chin down slightly in way of a greeting. Jack nodded his head towards Gemma before looking into Anamaria’s eyes questioningly.

“What do we know about her, then?” he asked, keeping his voice low enough as not to be overheard by the girl.

“Appears to be a sad story, from what I gathered,” Anamaria replied, her tone equally hushed as she glanced briefly towards the girl whose back was turned to the pirates. “Elizabeth got little out of her before the Governor and Will got back. But, apparently she’s spent the last three years aboard Delgado’s ship as a member of the crew. Hails from Nevis. Delgado sacked the town and killed almost everyone in the town, including her family. She was spared, for some reason, and taken back to the ship.”

“A forced recruit, then,” Jack muttered a tad distastefully, mostly to himself as he scrutinized the slight girl. It was odd, really; why did Delgado choose her of all people? He knew the Spaniard had little love for any other nationality than her own, especially on the English folk. Jack narrowed his eyes pensively. The girl – Gemma, that was her name; Jack now recalled how you’d asked about her earlier - seemed frail and almost fragile, and he wondered absent-mindedly how old she was. He doubted she was older than Elizabeth, at least not by much. It was somewhat of a wonder in itself that she’d survived aboard the Maldito with those women for three entire years; something to be commended, for sure.

Jack glanced back at Anamaria. “Anything else?”

“I gathered she smuggled a bit of something to eat for Byrne. As we already saw, Delgado wasn’t very hospitable in that aspect,” Anamaria spat angrily, and Jack’s feelings took the same trail. Anamaria went on after a moment of silence, making Jack push aside his hate for Delgado and concentrate on her words. “Not much else to tell, except that she’s obviously been living with her heart up in her throat for the past three years, which would explain that nervousness. Can’t say I blame her, though... Oh, she did mention something about the Maldito’s first mate, who apparently has some differences with the quartermaster.”

Jack raised an interested brow. Internal squabbles between Delgado’s crewmembers, eh? That didn’t really surprise Jack overly much, but it could very well prove to be useful information. “That’s interesting,” he said in distracted tone, looking back at Gemma again. “I’m thinking I’ll be having a little discussion with the girl before hearing out the Commodore.”

Anamaria nodded, but narrowed her eyes a little. “Just as long as you don’t scare her. She’s jittery enough as it is.”

Jack favoured Anamaria with the guileless, wide-eyed look he’d practiced to perfection over the years – unfortunately it never worked on Anamaria, but that never kept Jack from trying.

“You truly believe I would do such a disgraceful thing, Anamaria? Shame on you,” he added with a gold-flecked grin. “I happen to have a very positive influence on the fairer sex.”

“We can argue over what’s supposed to be so ‘positive’ in your influence…” Anamaria muttered sarcastically as Jack started strolling towards Gemma in his typical, swaying manner. Shaking her head, Anamaria took a few steps closer to the Captain and the girl; far enough not to disturb them, but close enough… just in case.

Jack smiled pleasantly at the doe-eyed girl as she turned around at the sounds of his footsteps, stopping a respectable distance away from her. “I’d like to express my deepest apologies for the poor welcoming earlier, miss…?” he paused, eyeing the girl questioningly.

“Wickham,” she supplied quietly after a short moment, wringing her hands about nervously in front of her. “Gemma Wickham. And it’s alright, I understand,” she said, obviously about to stop talking until her eyes widened a fraction and she added hastily, “Captain Sparrow.”

The corner of Jack’s mouth lifted upward in a smirk, approving mirth dancing in his eyes. “Well, at least someone here remembers my rightful title! Thank you very much for that, Miss Wickham. For that consideration only you’re already warmly welcome aboard the Black Pearl. If only there were more people alike yourself here who’d understand to grant me the same courtesy,” he added dryly, throwing a brief glance in Norrington’s general direction.

Anamaria was amazed to see a brief but genuine smile quirking Gemma’s lips up at this; she had not yet seen the timorous girl smile at all. “It’s a very beautiful ship, Captain Sparrow,” Gemma said softly, almost shyly.

Jack’s spine straightened immediately at the compliment on his pride and joy, and he smiled beamingly down at the girl whilst clapping his palms together in a gesture of gratitude. “Oh yes, that she is indeed. The fastest ship in the entire Caribbean, my Pearl!” he exclaimed with no small amount of unconcealed pride.

Anamaria rolled her eyes behind the Captain’s back, having heard this one time too many. If Gemma already hadn’t earned Jack’s approval by helping Byrne aboard the Maldito, she certainly would have now after those few well-chosen words.

“Captain…!” Anamaria barked in exasperation, hoping to steer the talk back to its original topic.

Jack gave his firstmate a reprimanding frown over his shoulder, to which the mulatto woman responded by merely crossing her arms and raising an unimpressed brow. Shaking his head slightly, Jack turned back to regard Gemma with an apologetic smile. “Do excuse my firstmate’s bad manners. She’s terminally ill-tempered like that, I’m afraid. It’s quite sad, really,” he said in deploring tone.

Jack knew all too well that he had exposed himself to the possibility of Anamaria retaliating physically as he felt the firstmate’s heavy glare on the back of his head. However, his gamble paid off as Anamaria’s palm didn’t connect painfully with the back his head and Gemma actually let out a quiet giggle, the sharpest edge of her nervousness seemingly vanishing as a small smile lingered on her lips. Satisfied, Jack gave himself a mental pat on the back due to yet another job well done. As the girl was now feeling slightly more at ease, they could finally move onto the important matters.

“Now, then…” Jack started more solemnly, fixing his dark eyes on the girl’s blue ones. “I understand that this is doubtless a sore subject to you, but Anamaria here tells me that you were a forced recruit aboard Delgado’s ship for three years, correct?”

Gemma nodded her agreement, casting her gaze downward for a moment. “Yes. Delgado killed my friends and family when she sacked Nevis a little over three years ago. But she left me alive. I don’t know why. They took me to the ship and…” she trailed off, swallowing thickly and blinking her eyes.

“Take your time, luv,” Jack assured with kindly timbre, hoping the girl wouldn’t burst into tears – there were few things more distressing to a man than a crying female.

Composing herself, Gemma went on after a brief moment of silence, even if her voice wavered ever so slightly still. “Well… I suppose to sum it up would be to say that everyday there was pure hell. I wanted out of there so badly, but… I had no way of achieving such. I was too afraid to do anything,” she ended in whisper.

The girl’s admission hardly surprised Jack, and he felt a swell of pity for the frail being before him. Delgado would have enjoyed to keep someone like Gemma around purely for her own twisted enjoyment, a notion which made Jack’s antipathy towards the Spaniard rise yet another notch, something he had thought impossible.

“That’s hardly a thing to be ashamed of,” Jack finally said when Gemma didn’t go on, smiling slightly. “I do believe you’re looking at things from the wrong viewpoint, now.”

Gemma frowned in puzzlement, looking up at the pirate who was smiling enigmatically. “What do you mean by that?”

“Instead of thinking you were too afraid to do anything, you ought be proud of yourself for finding your courage and acting when the time was right, despite your fear. That’s what bravery is all about, you know - taking action even though you’re afraid,” Jack spoke solemnly, but there was a slight twinkle in his eyes. “Especially when the odds seem to be against you. So,” he paused, bending just a bit closer to the girl while looking into her eyes, speaking in that particularly compelling tone that could’ve convinced people that the sky was green. “Let it not be said that Gemma Wickham was afraid, when she was in fact a very brave woman. Savvy?”

Gemma held the Captain’s eyes for a moment, her face blank as she processed Jack’s words. Finally, a slow smile spread to her lips, small but sincere. She nodded her head while smiling, speaking quietly, “Thank you.”

Jack returned the small smile, nodding back once in wordless ‘you’re welcome’ before straightening his posture. “So, I understood that there are some internal disputes among Delgado’s crew, then? Sorry to question you like this, but anything you could tell us about our foes would be useful, to be sure.”

Jack and Anamaria listened closely on Gemma’s account on the Maldito’s crew, and learned about the quartermaster Carmen’s plans to be rid of the firstmate Nerita – who in turn seemed to waver in her loyalties to her Captain, having already killed one of the crewmembers that’d been Carmen’s close associate and in on the plan to kill the firstmate. After Gemma had finished her briefing, it became clear to Jack that they knew now more about Delgado’s crew than she did herself. Jack’s right hand had risen to play idly with the plaits hanging from his goatee as he considered everything Gemma had just told them. It seemed that Delgado was completely unaware of the almost mutinous stirrings amongst the crew that went on right under her very nose – a sure sign of poor captaincy. Indeed, it seemed to Jack that Delgado had no interest none whatsoever on her crew, something that would unquestionably yet turn against her.

Jack glanced at Anamaria, slightly amused sparkle in his eyes; Anamaria shook her head and scowled in disgust, having obviously reached the same conclusion. However, Gabriela Delgado had one factor on her side, and that was her cold brutality. Jack was certain the other women were simply too intimidated by her to actually commit mutiny against her, and so in their malcontent they turned against one another instead. And that was almost as bad as an outright mutiny.

“Very interesting, I’d say,” Jack commented, his tone characteristically blithe. “Well, seeing as that’s sorted, how about you, then?” he went on, fixing his eyes again on Gemma who looked momentarily startled by the abrupt, vague question. “As the Captain of this vessel, it’s my duty to look after the ones who serve under my command,” Jack elaborated casually at Gemma’s uncertain look. “And as it is that you have aided one of my crewmembers when I could not, I find it only decent to express my gratitude by some means. So, if there’s anything I might be able to help you with, now would be a good time to speak up about it,” he smiled lopsidedly, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

Gemma looked bewildered for a moment, her mouth opening and closing as she searched for words. “I…” she began hesitantly. “I… don’t really need anything, Captain… I just wanted to be… free,” she finished with a slight shrug, casting her eyes downward once again.

Jack’s lips twitched at the particular choice of word. “Aye. Don’t we all…” he murmured almost to himself, distracted as he suddenly had the funniest feeling that someone besides Anamaria was watching them.

Discreetly, Jack shifted his gaze to the side, catching out of the corner of his eye how Commodore Norrington was paying attention to him and the girl. The Commodore was trying to be as subtle as Jack, but didn’t quite manage to fool the pirate. Norrington was actually conversing with the Governor, but his eyes kept on wandering. It did not take Jack long to follow the Commodore’s gaze and realize what it was exactly – better yet, who – that held his interest. Jack’s brows shot up with interest as he glanced back at the curly haired girl in front of him, she herself having not noticed the Commodore’s interest, as she was busy with staring down at her own feet.

Jack curbed the wicked grin that was threatening to spread on his lips only barely. Well, well! Things just kept on growing more and more interesting today! Perhaps the Commodore did not fancy boys, after all – there was no way of mistaking that particular look that men gave women in the Commodore’s eyes, something that frankly surprised Jack just slightly; he hadn’t quite acknowledged that the Commodore had it in him. Well, at least this solved the question of what to do about the girl. No upstanding gentleman, such as the Commodore obviously was, would leave a fair maiden in trouble, now would they? The Pearl had enough visitors as it was, so this new observation gave Jack the most wonderful opportunity to push the girl into Norrington’s care aboard the Dauntless along the Governor Swann. Perfect.

Smirking slightly, Jack glanced at Gemma. “If you’ll excuse me, Miss Wickham, I must have a word with the Commodore now. My thanks for all your help, and be sure to let Anamaria know if you need anything,” he smiled charmingly at the girl, before turning and leaving her with Anamaria and sauntering towards the others, prepared to have an invigorating conversation with the Commodore.

“Jack,” Elizabeth spoke up from her place alongside Will as soon as she noticed the pirate drawing nearer, concern etched upon her face. “How is she doing? Has she woken up already?”

“Aye, she was awake for a while,” Jack replied as he halted his steps. “She’s sleeping now. She’s a bit feverish and dehydrated, not to mention covered with bruises,” he said, his tone dropping to a vehement level toward the end of the sentence. “Still, she should make full recovery. Enough rest and plenty of water are the best remedies for her now.”

The Governor shook his head sadly. “As regrettable as that already is, thank goodness nothing else happened. Things could have easily gotten much more severe with those vile women.”

Jack knew that to be true, but it did nothing to lessen his simmering anger towards the Spaniards. A moment of silence ensued, before the Commodore broke it by addressing Will.

“Mister Turner, I believe you were about to tell us what exactly happened when you went to retrieve Governor Swann… alone,” he added after a short pause, casting a quick, disapproving glance in Jack’s direction.

The pirate raised his brows slightly in amusement at this. It was clear that Commodore Norrington was questioning Jack’s judgment to send Will after the Governor all alone instead of taking more men with him in the first place before venturing into Aguadilla. However, Jack knew that Delgado’s demand to come alone in the note had been adamant, and if she’d seen Will accompanying him to the tavern, their troubles probably would have only doubled.

“Yes I was,” Will replied slowly, noticing the scathing look Norrington gave Jack. Feeling compelled to intervene, he pointed out, “Jack’s decision to go after Byrne while I left to find the Governor was a reasonable one, Commodore. They were both held in different inns and we had a ten-minute time limit to meet or else they would have been killed. There was simply no time to go to both inns together, and therefore we had to split up.”

Jack’s lips twitched slightly, oddly moved that Will would back him up so easily in tight spots. Norrington’s face went near blank as he thought about this new revelation, glancing at Jack. The mischievous streak in Jack came out to play, and he simply could not resist smirking smugly at the Commodore as he met Norrington’s dubious look. Will in turn gave Jack a look that unmistakably suggested him to watch it, to which Jack responded by pulling the wide-eyed expression that seemed to be the epitome of innocence.

“I see,” Norrington finally replied, a tad stiffly. “In that case, my apologies. Please, do go on.”

Will nodded, picking up. “Finding the correct inn wasn’t difficult. Neither was finding the correct room; there seemed to be a very few people there altogether.”

Jack smirked in amusement as he recalled the reason for this. “Aye, the old inn hasn’t been very popular since the unfortunate pox incident around five years ago.”

“Pox incident…?” Elizabeth repeated tentatively, laying his hand on Will’s arm.

“Old news, luv. Someone supposedly caught a pox while there and the word spread around. The place hasn’t quite been on top of anyone’s lists since that.”

“Are you saying you sent my fiancé into a pox-infested inn? And that my father was held there?” Elizabeth demanded, fixing her stern gaze on Jack who quickly realized that he perhaps shouldn’t have said that – and that he just might be in jeopardy of getting slapped.

“Of course not!” Jack assured quickly, “No, I’m sure the whole matter was a ruse to begin with – after all, who’s to say the poor blighter caught the pox from there, anyway? It’s perfectly safe to go there these days. Trust me,” he added at Elizabeth’s still suspicious look.

“At any rate,” Will hastened to continue, hoping to put an end to the pox debate, “There was only one woman guarding the Governor. She looked surprised to see me, so I can only believe she’d been expecting you instead, Jack,” Will said, glancing at Jack. Jack nodded in agreement; it was just as he’d suspected. Delgado had really counted on him to come alone.

“After she got over her surprise, she didn’t waste any time to pull her weapon on me,” Will went on. “I tried to disarm her first, but when she turned against the Governor, I had no other choice but to end it… for good.”

“There was no other option, Will,” Elizabeth said quietly. “You saved father’s life.”

“Indeed you did, and I’m indebted to you for it,” Governor Swann told Will sombrely, who smiled a little in return.

“I did what anybody would have done,” Will responded softly, and Jack smiled slightly to himself. Old William would’ve been proud of the boy if he could see him now, no doubt about it.

“I must agree with the Governor,” Norrington spoke up. “You did a good job, mister Turner. Now, Captain Sparrow,” he paused, regarding Jack. “Could have a word with you about the next destination?”

Jack gave the Commodore one of his typical smirks. “Aye, Commodore, you can have as many as you fancy. That was, after all, the primary reason you insisted me to be dragged away from… other affairs, I’m thinking.”

“I do believe that we should leave the two of you to discuss this in peace,” Governor Swann said, turning to face Will and Elizabeth. “Would you accompany me for a small walk? I’d wish to have a few words with both of you,” he smiled to the young couple, while starting to usher them away.

Norrington inhaled deeply to summon more patience, something he always seemed to need when dealing with Sparrow. The mostly inconspicuous gesture amused Jack greatly, the way the Commodore appeared to be so vexed by him. Perhaps he should cut the poor fellow a bit of slack this time. Just a little bit.

“So, Commodore,” Jack started with good cheer. “What is it that troubles you this time?”

“Given your better knowledge about our enemy, I was merely interested to know what was it that you planned on doing next. Obviously, the hostages are now safe and the map has changed ownership. I was wondering how exactly were you planning on ever finding Delgado now with as we no longer have any influence on her?” The Commodore asked, a bit sharply.

Jack let out a small, pensive hum from his throat while nodding his head slowly. “Very sound points all of them, Commodore. As to my plan… I was thinking about using the map to find out the location of the Abyss first and then head there. I’m willing to bet that’s where we’ll find Delgado as well. Wouldn’t you agree?” Jack asked guilelessly.

Norrington blinked, caught off guard. “Hold on a moment, the map?” he repeated, frowning. “I was under the impression you handed over the piece you had in exchange for Byrne and the Governor.”

Jack smiled pleasantly. “I did, mate.”

“Then how exactly-” Norrington halted his words abruptly as he pieced the clues together. “You copied it.”

“That I did,” Jack answered, his smile never faltering. “And it has now turned out that we in actuality have Delgado’s piece in our possession, as well.”

“I see,” Norrington replied pensively. “What of Delgado, then? If you have her piece, wouldn’t she come back to retrieve it?”

“Not likely,” Jack said, resting his left hand casually over the hilt of his cutlass. “I believe she’s had enough wits to copy her part of the map, as well. And, her vessel is in no condition to make battle against two ships that are both equipped and armed better than her galleon, and she knows this. No, she’ll work out the location of the Abyss as soon as possible and set sail.”

Norrington nodded. “Well, I believe we have no choice but to take your word for it, then.”

Jack smirked. “Funny old world, aye? Commodore Norrington himself taking advice from a pirate… such a predicament must gall you quite a bit.”

Norrington glanced out to the sea, a dry smile pulling at his lips. “I must admit I wasn’t expecting such a situation ever to arise, yes.”

Jack chuckled blithely. “Well, I deem you’ll be the household favourite of every upstanding citizen once again after you’ll deliver Delgado to the gallows. In the meantime, I’ll swear to do my best not to smudge that pristine reputation of yours…” Jack paused and grinned, “Overly much.”

Rolling his eyes, Norrington replied dryly, “How considerate of you. Now, getting back to the subject at hand,” he went on in a matter-of-fact way. “You said you have the entire map now, as well. Have you already deciphered the location of this Abyss, then?”

“No,” Jack denied. “Not yet. But first things first, we should leave this town as soon as possible,” he said, steering the subject away from the map. The both pieces of the map were in his quarters, and while it may not take overly long to piece them together and see where it lead, Jack had no intentions of allowing anyone else in his quarters while you were still sleeping – you needed your rest, and Jack wasn’t about to let anybody disturb you. The map could wait until they had relocated somewhere else.

“I agree,” Norrington replied, to Jack’s surprise. That had to be the first time the Commodore had ever actually agreed with him without first arguing about it. “The question is, where? If we are to follow Delgado, this must be well thought-out.”

“I’m positive she has already left, or at least is about to soon. She knows we have the superiority when it comes to arms, and likely wishes to avoid confrontation on the way,” Jack mused, leaving out the ‘least for now’. For confrontation did inevitably lie before them, but a battle at sea with a leaky galleon against a Navy man-of-war and the Pearl was a fool’s errand; and Delgado wasn’t a fool. “I’m thinking we should sail south, and stop by one of the coastal towns so we can figure out the exact location of the Abyss.”

Norrington nodded. “Sound enough idea, but why cannot we see to the map now before departing?”

“There more distance put between us and Delgado at the moment, the better. Besides, we have the opportunity to replenish any supplies we are most likely going to be needing yet somewhere else; finding decent suppliers in this wretched pit would require more time and effort than we have to spare,” Jack said evenly, having a glib answer even to the question he’d liked to avoid. “Rincon is perhaps a six, seven hours sail to south, depending on the winds. Around here, I’d say that’s our best alternative.”

“Sounds plausible,” Norrington replied after a few moments’ thought, although he knew just as well himself that Sparrow was correct. Inhaling before speaking again, the Commodore chose his next words carefully. “I was under the impression you brought someone from the Spanish vessel along with you?”

Commodore Norrington stifled a very undignified, fed-up groan of exasperation and annoyance as he saw the slow, sly smirk finding its way on Sparrow’s lips, exposing a few gold teeth – Norrington knew from experience that the particular look promised naught but teeth-gritting for him.

“I’ve been wondering for a moment already how long it would take you to land that particular topic, Commodore!” Jack cackled gleefully, his smirk only broadening. “I couldn’t help but to notice the way you were gaping at the poor lass…”

Norrington nearly sputtered at the pirate’s implying tone. “Captain Sparrow!” he exploded, “I certainly do not have the habit of thinking anything indecent about the women I look at!”

Jack raised his hands in pacifying manner. “Your words, not mine,” he returned smoothly. “Although, I didn’t think you found her to be that unpleasant for the eyes.”

“She’s not!” Norrington denied heatedly.

Jack grinned. “Ah. So you were thinking something ‘indecent’, then?”

“Of course not!” Norrington disagreed again, wondering momentarily how did he get into such a predicament in the first place.

“No?” Jack raised a brow, inwardly enjoying throwing the normally composed Commodore off his guard a bit. “You don’t find her attractive, after all?”

“I didn’t say that!” Norrington all but hissed.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Then make your mind up, already! The ladies abhor indecisiveness, mate.”

Norrington gritted his teeth, his face taking on the forcedly patient look while the tone of his voice matched it perfectly. “I have no intentions of discussing this or any other matter remotely like it with you, Captain Sparrow.”

“I think I can live with that,” Jack drawled with a lazy smirk. “After all, it’s your loss.”

Now it was Norrington’s turn to roll his eyes, even if he used more discretion than Jack did a moment ago. “And I think this conversation has served its purpose and therefore is adjourned,” he said, putting on a deliberately insincere smirk of his own.

“About to leave already? What a pity,” Jack countered with mock-sadness.

“I’m sure,” the Commodore said dryly. “I trust we’ll set sail to Rincon as soon as possible?”

“Just as soon as you have escorted your respected self back to the Dauntless along with the Governor and the lovely Miss Wickham,” Jack said, a shrewd smile tugging at his lips. “My Pearl is getting just a little crowded, so no more passengers here, I’m afraid.”

“Of course,” Norrington replied, raising his brows caustically. “We certainly wouldn’t wish to inconvenience you in such fashion, now would we?”

“I’m glad to see you’re a man of reason, Commodore,” Jack said lightly while pointing his somewhat grimy forefinger towards Norrington, ignoring the obvious sarcasm in his tone entirely. “But now, if you’ll excuse me – and even if you don’t – I have other matters that call for my undivided attention to take care of. I trust you’ll be able to see yourself off, aye? Good!” Jack smiled pleasantly and turned on his heel before Norrington managed to get even a word edgewise, the movement followed by the soft jingle of the trinkets in his hair.

Norrington struggled to calm himself as Jack swaggered away, narrowing his eyes a fraction. “That has got to be the most infuriating person I’ve ever known,” James muttered under his breath, before seeking out the Governor, Will, Elizabeth and Ms. Wickham with his gaze. Heaving a soft sigh, the Commodore started to make his way toward the small group standing by the portside rail of the ship.

* * * *

Jack finally allowed himself to exhale tiredly as he made his lightly seesawing way towards the familiar doors of his quarters. The past few days had been rather stressful for everyone onboard, and Jack was no exception. The badly slept nights – if he could sleep at all – were starting to catch up on him, and he had to admit to himself that he couldn’t be happier about the fact that Governor Swann, Gemma and the Commodore had finally relocated to the Dauntless and the Pearl was already leaving Aguadilla behind her rudder, sailing toward Rincon under Anamaria’s and Gibbs’ able guidance. Will and Elizabeth had gone over to the Dauntless as well, Elizabeth wanting to assure herself her father was truly all right and to get to know Gemma; after all, they would be seeing her around more in Port Royal, as the Governor was adamant to take the poor lass under his wing, so to say. And of course, far be it from Will to leave his beloved fiancée’s side. The young couple had, however, expressed their wish to return to the Black Pearl once they reached Rincon.

They’d been sailing not longer than ten minutes, Jack having been fully prepared to take his Pearl out to the sea before letting Anamaria take over so he could return to his quarters and see how you were. It was true that Jack was anxious to get back to you, but he also knew he had to do his duty as a Captain of the vessel first. However, his plans had been thoroughly stumped as Gibbs had suggested nonchalantly that he could perhaps leave the Pearl to Anamaria and him to handle and go get some sorely needed rest. Jack had just managed to open his mouth to thank the quartermaster kindly but refuse the offer – but that’s when Anamaria told him in no uncertain terms to “go, you daft fool!” or else the consequences would probably be less than pleasant to Jack. So, Jack had no choice but to acquiesce, but not before giving Anamaria a smile and Gibbs a chummy pat on the shoulder. Truthfully, he really wasn’t opposed to the idea that much.

Slipping into his quarters, Jack pressed the door shut behind him quietly, not wishing to wake you up when you were visibly so exhausted earlier. Jack made his way across the spacious cabin in silence, only the occasional, soft creak of the floorboards under his steps giving away his movements. Coming to stand next to the bed, he found that you were indeed still sound asleep, just as he had expected you to be.

You had turned slightly on your left flank, your chin tilted downward just a bit. The blanket that came up to your armpits couldn’t quite cover up the way your bruised arms were drawn close to your chest, loosely fisted hands held under your chin. Jack frowned in thought; your slightly huddled position struck him as defensive, and Jack didn’t like it, not one bit. He did not yet know what exactly went on aboard the galleon, but he intended to find out every single detail as soon as you were up to it. Jack knew you to be a strong-minded and brave woman, but he had come to notice during the time he’d know you that you had a downright frustrating way of playing down your own troubles and putting on the brave front for others while hurting inside. And so, although you had kept up your typical, light-hearted countenance earlier with him, the unconsciously protective pose you were now sporting told Jack more than enough. He clenched his jaw in anger yet again as his eyes travelled over your arms and the discolorations mottling your skin, knowing you had plenty of more elsewhere on your body. Were all of them acquired during the same day?

Blowing air through his teeth in aggravation, Jack forced himself to calm down and relaxed his hands that had balled into fists at his sides without his notice. Drawing in a breath, he turned and wearily took off his hat, strolling slowly over the heavy, wooden desk and set the weather-beaten hat on it. Carefully, he slipped off the belt that held his scabbard and cutlass and pulled his pistol from the worn sash, setting them alongside the hat before shrugging off his overcoat, draping it lazily on the backrest of the nearby chair. After a moment’s thought, he proceeded to unbuckle his leather belt as well, before unwrapping the long sash around his waist and taking off the long, blue vest too, throwing the articles rather carelessly on the chair as he kept discarding them. Now clad only his breeches and the well-worn, loose shirt, Jack balanced quite precariously on one foot as he pulled the long boot off the other – however, being the master of unbalanced moves, he maintained his footing admirably, repeating the process with the other boot.

Having dropped the brown boots on the floor in his typical, slipshod fashion, Jack padded back to the bed where you hadn’t stirred from your current place, your breathing deep and even. Rounding on the other side of the large bed, Jack climbed in and laid down on your right side, mirroring your pose and resting on his right side, facing you. With utmost carefulness, he pressed down the mattress and manoeuvred his right arm slowly and gently under your neck, whilst his left came to rest lightly over your waist, keeping the blanket wrapped around you loosely. You stirred slightly in your sleep, inhaling deeply, and Jack thought you were about to awake; he shushed you softly, murmuring a few calming words under his breath. But instead of waking up, you nestled a bit closer to him, your head coming to rest over his bicep while your forearms and hands pressed between your bodies. Your breathing evened again, your face now so close to Jack’s chest that he could feel your breath on his skin. Jack smiled slightly at this and curled his right arm around your shoulders to hold you better to him, stroking your bare upper arm softly with his hand.

Jack lay like that for a long while, just listening to your breathing and basking in your closeness. The Pearl rocked gently upon the waves, the soft groans of wood every now and then breaking the surrounding silence. And at that moment, Jack suddenly realized that he felt more content than he’d ever been before, having everything he’d ever wanted right there with him. The notion made a small smile to pass over his lips, and he bent his head slightly to press a light kiss on the skin your forehead, minding the cut on your brow. He couldn’t resist the urge to linger for a moment to inhale your scent. Never again, he vowed. Never again would anyone ever lay a harmful finger on you, he’d make bloody sure of it. On pain of death, he’d allow no one to touch his love ever again.

The steady swaying of the ship over the surges of the sea slowly started to make Jack drowsy, and he closed his eyes for a minute before opening them again, gazing down at your sleeping form in his arms, mapping your familiar features fondly. So... this is what the infamous love felt like, then; unity and contentment. It was not unpleasant, at all.

Jack had seen much love in his life; his parents, his uncle and Nora, William and Will’s mother Rose, and last but not least, Will and Elizabeth. He had seen it yes, but not experienced it. He loved his ship, he loved his rum, he loved his friends, his family and his freedom, but he had never experienced the different kind of love that a man had for a woman, not in the true sense of the meaning. He had loved women, that much was clear, but saying so was almost playing with semantics. And then, some odd force had thrown you in his path, or more like in his jail cell. And now it seemed that there was no turning back for Jack Sparrow – but the more he thought about it, the more he believed he might not even wish to. Wretched and poor would be his judgment should he let a treasure such as this woman in his arms slip away from his grasp! No, Jack knew the true value of treasures, just as he’d told Will earlier. And you were without a doubt the most significant one of them all.

Jack had once heard someone say that love was a prison, and once you were trapped, there was no walking out. There had been disdain in the talker’s voice, that much Jack remembered. Reflecting on the saying, Jack agreed to it somewhat. A prison of sorts it might be, but wasn’t it walked into willingly? Surely it was impossible to love against your will, forced by someone? So really, there was no point in the entire axiom.

His musings were interrupted as you shifted slightly in your sleep, murmuring something under your breath too soft for Jack to comprehend, and moved your hands so they rested against flat against his chest, your head bending lower to lean your forehead lightly against his skin. Jack smiled to himself, caressing your upper arm again with his hand half-heartedly, enjoying the way your body felt in his arms, fitted snugly alongside his. Prison or not, Jack was willing to throw off the key, nonetheless.

Exhaling tiredly, Jack closed his eyes and nuzzled his face against your hair, finally allowing himself to be lulled into sleep by the swaying of the ship and the familiarity of your scent.

* * * * *

A/N: I know, I know! Believe me, I do! But before you guys kill me for way too little reunion time and no Jack action (oh, you know what I mean, don't even try!), hear me out first; the first parts of this damn chapter slipped a bit longer than I expected, the time was really badly against me, and I needed to find a reasonable spot to stop the chapter before the upcoming discussion between Jack and Byrne so I wouldn't have to cut it in between. So, I'm really sorry for making you wait for this long and give you so little where you were asleep for the entire time. I promise to make it up in the next chapter, which I'm hoping to get up sooner than this. It's a sad fact that I must work to provide for myself and it eats up my writing time. Also, I'm hoping I didn't slip too sappy during the end. I tried hard not to, but... well, you tell me. Thank you, mates! :)

CHAPTER 35 - Sense of Catharsis

It’s blissfully warm.

A wave of gratification washes through you at the vague realization, and an unconscious, small smile graces your features. For the first time in days, you’re not waking up shivering from the harsh draft and cold dampness after hours of fitful sleep on hard, dirty floorboards. Instead, as your mind starts to slowly awaken from slumber, your consciousness is met with wonderful warmth that surrounds your beaten body, followed closely by a feeling of complete safety and comfort. Drawing in a slow, deep breath with your eyes still closed, you inhale the familiar scent you’ve come to know and love, your smile growing a little. You know precisely what is making you feel so safe and cared for; it’s Jack and his tangible presence around you. More or less in the very literal sense, it seems – you feel that his left arm is stretched out over your waist while the other is curled around you nicely; only now you understand that your head is actually resting over his bicep and his arm is behind your neck, his palm pressing warmly against your back. He’s holding you as if worried someone might snatch you away while you slept unless he didn’t. Your own arms, you realize, are drawn up between your bodies, your hands lying against his warm chest, fingers upon the naked flesh his low-cut shirt leaves exposed.

Not a bad way of waking up, you decide with a smile.

Stirring slightly, you smother a yawn and crack your eyes open sleepily, your lips curling into soft smile once again as you find yourself staring at Jack’s face only some odd inches away from yours. He’s sound asleep, his kohl-smudged lids closed. You marvel how incredibly beautiful he is, noting idly how young he looks when asleep. It’s strange, almost… when given the first once over, Jack might be described as ruggedly handsome – you did yourself as well when you first saw him all those months ago. But upon closer inspection, like now, one can’t help but to realize the sheer beauty and underlying sensuality in his features; the fullness of his lips, finely sculpted cheekbones, the richly brown eyes and long lashes. Yet another contradiction to his unique character, to be sure; the man seems to be full of them.

You listen to the comforting sound of his even breathing while taking the opportunity to just watch him, your eyes climbing across his visage, memorizing even the smallest of details. There’s a small, vertical scar crossing over his right brow that’s usually mostly hidden by his bandanna, but now you can see it clearly. Suddenly, you have to fend off an irrational urge to draw your fingertip over it. Sliding your gaze downward, you linger a moment at his closed eyes, admiring the way his dark lashes rest on the tanned skin of his prominent cheekbones. Ever down you go, all the way to the dark moustache and the irresistibly soft-looking lips underneath, your eyes lingering yet again before finally moving on to the equally dark goatee and the two familiar plaits hanging from his chin, topped with a few small beads.

You heave a quiet sigh, deciding once again that he’s absolutely beautiful. Perfect, even, at least to your eyes. It was impossible not to love something so exceptional. The thought makes you worry your bottom lip lightly with your teeth as your eyes keep watching Jack’s sleeping face. There have been little chances of actually having a quiet word with Jack in private thus far, and the true depth of your feelings for him is still left unsaid. You can’t help but to wonder what he’d say if you’d just blurt it out when he wakes up. That would at least sort that one out.

“I understand perfectly that it’s difficult to keep your eyes off my striking features,” Jack suddenly drawls in sleep-slurred tone, his eyes still closed but a small grin already pulling the corner of his mouth upward, “But that staring is slightly distracting when I’m trying to sleep.”

You raise your brows coolly in that carefully sardonic way you know you pull off perfectly due to years of practice, never mind that Jack can’t see your look. Despite your wry tone, amused smile tugs at your lips as you reply, “Thousands of pardons, Captain. I shall have to remind myself not to lay my eyes on you again, then. How ever will I endure such a horrid fate?”

You can feel the faint vibrations beneath your palms that rest flat against Jack’s chest as he chuckles amusedly at your words, small smirk playing on his lips while his eyes remain closed. The arm around your waist snakes further down your back and tightens its grip a bit, gently pulling your body yet a little closer to his. The action puts a slightly uncomfortable pressure on your sore bruises, but at the moment you couldn’t care less about that. Jack’s closeness is providing to be a very effective remedy.

“I love it when you call me that,” Jack smirks, his voice a low murmur. “You do it so bloody rarely every time is a bit of a treat.”

You smirk, as well; that was true. Ever since day one and through the whole mess with Barbossa, you’d called him Jack and admittedly had some difficulties remembering to call him by his rightful title afterwards. Yes, you did so when people who weren’t friends or didn’t belong to Jack’s crew were around, out of respect. But usually, it was just Jack to you. Everyone else in the crew, mostly even Anamaria and Gibbs, address him as Captain, but they don’t seem to mind that you don’t. Perhaps they’ve gotten used to your ways. Only Jack minds and tends to make a few remarks about it every now than then – but in the end, you have a feeling he doesn’t really mind it quite as much as he sometimes lets on.

“Do I, now?” you enquire guilelessly, slightly distracted by the way Jack’s fingers have started to draw random patterns against your back. You fail to suppress the faint shiver that skates down your spine at the contact. “Well then, I should probably keep it up like that. Just to keep you on your toes,” you grin, mirth evident in your tone.

Jack gives a low, amused hum from his throat, leaning closer to nuzzle your neck. “You always have an answer for everything, don’t you?” he murmurs against your sensitive skin.

You swallow and close your eyes as you feel his warm lips against your neck, struggling to formulate an answer. “I don’t know, do I?” you ask in return, your tone husky as Jack bestows soft kisses on your neck, effectively muddling your thoughts.

Jack’s questing lips travel upward, nearly ghosting against your ear as he whispers, “Stop asking questions for a moment.”

Impetuous smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you tilt your head up slightly, your gaze finally meeting the seductive warmth of Jack’s russet eyes. “Make me.”

Jack’s eyebrows lift up a fraction, before a small smile appears on his lips. “I believe,” he begins in low tone, his eyes never leaving yours. “That can be easily arranged.”

Closing the small space left between the two of you, Jack leans down and presses his lips on yours, your eyes slipping shut at the intimate contact. He surprises you completely by going against your presumptions of a passionate, hungry kiss that the caresses on your neck had hinted towards – instead, the kiss is slow and soft, almost poignantly caring. His lips brush against yours with such gentleness it warms your heart, coaxing a soft sigh out of you that’s lost in the kiss. He takes his time, unwilling to rush things; you welcome the exquisite thrill of the sweet familiarity and affection that course through you. And at that moment, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that above all, you love this man more than any other.

You draw in a slow breath and open your eyes as Jack pulls away after another heavenly moment, his face poised only inches above yours. His hair has spilled down his shoulders, the dark locks having fallen around your faces to hide you away from the rest of the world. Jack’s brown eyes are startlingly earnest as you hold one another’s gaze, and the depth of emotion you see in them cause a tightening feeling to clutch at your chest. Almost unconsciously, you bring your right hand up and lay it on Jack’s cheek. You watch him as he closes his eyes, leaning into your touch slightly as your fingers stroke his skin, feeling the coarse hair along his jaw under the heel your palm. Opening his eyes, Jack exhales quietly and meets your gaze, tilting his head slightly to press a soft kiss on your palm. The tender gesture brings a small smile to your lips, and Jack mirrors it.

“How are you feeling now?” he asks quietly, his lips brushing against your palm as he speaks.

Your smile stretches a little at the concern in his eyes, lowering your hand from his jaw. “Better. Still a bit tired, but better,” you reply quietly.

Jack nods a little in absent-minded fashion, his gaze climbing up to your forehead. “Does that wound pain you?” he questions, frowning as he inspects the cut. You catch a fleeting flicker of anger in his eyes as he does so.

“No, not really,” you answer after a moment of contemplation. “Not enough to be a bother, at least.” The cut throbs faintly with dull pain and the skin around it feels somewhat hot, but not enough to cause you discomfort. You just hope it will heal well and wouldn’t leave a too noticeable scar on the skin – you already know it would leave a mark of some kind. Cursed Delgado.

Jack shakes his head ever so slightly as if in remorse while eyeing the cut, before lowering his head slightly to press a light kiss on your forehead. “I’m sorry, darling,” he breathes against your brow.

You frown in puzzlement, meeting Jack’s eyes as he pulls away slightly. “For what?”

“For not being there for you when I promised you I wouldn’t leave you alone,” he answers slowly, and you’re reminded of the day when you left Port Royal and the promise Jack had made you after you’d settled the argument about you and Elizabeth sneaking onboard the Pearl. “Even if it is a little difficult to hold up to it when you keep running away from me like that...”

Guilt washes through you immediately, and you drop your gaze from Jack’s in shame; you know you’ve once again gone against your word to Jack. You’d promised to stay close, and yet you took after the Spaniards to the Governor’s study anyway without giving him any indication as to where you were.

“I…” you start, searching for the correct words – after a second, you realize there aren’t any correct words. “I’m sorry,” you finally whisper, even if a simple apology seems feeble and inadequate in the situation. Why was it that every time you tried to do a good deed, someone always winds up getting the bad end of the bargain?

Jack sighs deeply, the weary sound paining your heart. “Why did you had to leave the room?” he asks, his voice hushed but intense. “Why didn’t you stay like you said you would, why couldn’t you search me out, or at least said something first?” Jack demands, his tone turning more forceful as he goes on, compelling you to raise your gaze and look at him, biting your lip. “I could’ve gone with you, I could’ve been there for you!” he says in harsh whisper before cutting himself off, turning his head to the side and clenching his jaw in attempt to calm down.

He’s angry with you. And why shouldn’t he be? Drawing in a shuddering breath, you swallow thickly and speak up, your quiet voice tinged with remorse. “I just… I hadn’t the time… I saw those women running toward the stairwell and remembered that the Governor was still up. And I thought they were going to kill him. My instincts took over and I ran after them,” you pause for a second. “I looked for you, I did, but you were busy and there was no time and I just couldn’t wait,” you trail off, about to go on when Jack speaks up.

“And so you decided to take on a handful of them by yourself,” he grounds out, still not looking at you.

You stay silent for a moment, staring at Jack’s profile. “No one else noticed the women. I couldn’t risk Elizabeth’s father getting killed when there was a chance of me somehow preventing it.”

“But you had no worries about risking your own life, is that it?” Jack asks sharply.

You close your eyes fleetingly, now feeling the slight sting of tears behind your lids. Blinking a few times to banish them, you draw in a shuddering breath. “Jack, please…” you beseech in small voice, abruptly feeling horribly guilty and sorry. Bringing one hand up again, you touch your fingers to Jack’s tense jaw, gently adding a tiniest bit of pressure in a silent plead for him to look at you. He inhales shakily before acquiescing, and turns his head to gaze down at you, your palm sliding up in time with his movement to rest against his cheek.

“You have to believe me when I say I’m so sorry, Jack, I never meant for things to happen like they did and or to hurt you and--” to your horror, your voice started to break down in the middle of the sentence, and now your words are cut off entirely as your breath hitches suddenly, the tears you’ve been holding back springing into your eyes unbidden despite your attempts to blink them away. Your breathing is rapid as you try your hardest not to cry in front of Jack, going on with your explanation brokenly as your hitching breath disturbs the fluidity of the sentence, “And I’m a stupid… stubborn idiot and… I’m so… sorry…”

You look away from Jack quickly and pull your hand away from his face, clapping it in front of your mouth to muffle the sob about to rise from your throat while Jack’s arm around you tightens, already leaning back himself and pulling you to his chest. “Ah, luv, don’t cry…” he whispers, drawing you to him as the dam finally breaks, all the emotional tension that has been steadily building up inside you for the past days finally boiling over the rim - it all bears down on you like a tidal wave, the kidnapping, the beating, the exhaustion, Delgado’s revelations…. It’s all too much too fast, and you burst into tears for the first time in years. You lean you forehead lightly against Jack’s chest, ignoring the slight smart radiating from the cut while keeping your hand over your mouth to muffle your cries while the other grabs onto his shirt almost desperately, the quiet sobs shaking your shoulders. Jack’s low voice murmurs soothing words that you can’t make out, one hand stroking your back and the other tangling in your hair gently, holding your trembling body close.

“It’s alright, darling… shh, it’s alright…” Jack murmured in your hair, only half-aware of his words himself as he held your shaking body in his arms. Each heartbreaking weep and cry from your lips tore at his heart, and he wished Delgado burned in hell for the thousandth of time. Jack had never, ever, seen you cry or ever get teary-eyed in all the time that he had known you. He didn’t blame you in the least, though, but your reaction made his mind race. Now, he wanted to know more than anything what exactly had transpired aboard that bloody galleon. He sighed quietly, stroking your trembling back comfortingly as your sobs gradually quieted down to soft sniffling.

You hiccup, sniffling as you finally start to calm down. Your lashes and cheeks are wet from tears, and you wipe some away half-heartedly with the hand that rested over your mouth. Mortification starts creeping up on you and you feel yourself blushing from embarrassment, although you know you probably needn’t to. Jack would understand. Still, tears and crying have always been very private, personal matters for you, and you strongly dislike even the mere idea of weeping in front of anybody. You cry rarely, but when you do, you do not want anyone to see it. You don’t know exactly why.

“Sorry about that,” you mumble with a sniff, your voice slightly scratchy.

Jack is still stroking your back with one hand. “Enough apologies, alright? Don’t worry about it.”

You give a small, watery smile although Jack can’t see it with you being so close to his front. For a little while, you both just lie there in silence, drawing comfort in one another. You squeeze your eyes shut to rid them of the stinging that comes after crying, wet lashes cold against your skin. Wiping the wetness away from them with one hand, you suck in a deep breath and rub the bridge of your nose wearily. While you feel a bit better now, having let that all out, you also feel tired once again. You lower your hand as Jack’s pulls away from you slightly to look at you. Pulling up the hand that had been stroking your back, he lifts your chin up so you meet his gaze, carefully brushing a few lingering tears from your cheek with his thumb.

“Tell me what happened there?” he asks softly, eyes pleading you to trust him.

You hold his gaze, unconsciously pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as the events that happened onboard the galleon flash through your mind. You know you have to tell someone about it, and if you couldn’t talk to your best friend, then who could you? You have your anxieties about how Jack would react to what you were about to tell him, but know you could not keep him in the dark. Exhaling quietly, you nod your head in silent agreement, managing a faint smile.

Jack responds with a small smile of his own, untangling his hand from your hair and leaning farther away from you, lying on his back. “Come here,” he says, opening his right arm for you. Genuine smile curls at your lips as you gingerly settle comfortably against his side again, mindful or your sore muscles. Resting your head on his chest, you throw your right arm over him while Jack’s right arm curls around shoulders, his hand burying into your hair again and finding your neck, long fingers caressing the skin gently. You close your eyes at the sensation and revel in the heart-warming feeling of intimacy the simple touch brings.

“In your own time, luv,” Jack quips to break the silence, and you smile as you catch a fleeting note of that habitual levity of his returning to his tone, appreciating his effort to lighten your mood a little.

“I don’t know where to start, really…” you trail off with a sigh.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning, then,” Jack suggests with unquestionable logicality, and now you hear the smile in his voice.

So you do just that. You tell him how the fight in the mansion went on your part from the moment you separated with Jack after your arrival, about Elizabeth’s timely intervention, about the women you saw running to the stairs, about the other women who gave chase to you; heck, you don’t even fail to mention about throwing one of them with your shoe (the slight, trembling vibrations beneath your head give away Jack’s quiet amusement over the particular detail). You smile as well, but your good mood wanes as your thoughts return to your explanation. Knowing delaying to be useless, you go on, telling him about the brief scuffle in the study, and how Delgado finally made her appearance to the scene.

Jack’s fingers, having been stroking your neck and twining into your hair, now pause at your words. You feel him drawing in a breath and letting it out slowly, before his hand on your neck picks up the soothing motions again.

“Go on,” he prompts softly after a moment of silence.

Inhaling a steadying breath yourself, you tell Jack the gist of Delgado’s smug monologues and sharp barbs, not remembering or wanting to dwell on everything.

“Then she saw the painting on the wall. Of my mother,” you say, your tone slightly distracted as you picture the painting in your mind about the woman who was a part of you, and yet so elusive. “There was unbelievable hatred in her voice when she started speaking about my parents, all those needling remarks and petty taunts. I couldn’t understand it then, I didn’t even understand how she knew of my parents in the first place. She hates them, truly hates them. And me, as well. But I didn’t know why… until a little later onboard her ship,” you add wryly, but don’t get any further into that.

Instead, you carry on with what happened next, explaining Delgado’s note and your necklace, and the less than pleasant journey to the Maldito. Words tumble from your mouth, and you find it hard to stay your tongue now that you’ve gotten started; the more you speak, the better you find yourself feeling, as if a great weight was being pushed down your shoulders after each sentence. You tell about the Maldito’s horrible condition, about the women aboard and their internal disputes, how you met and got to know Gemma, Delgado’s harsh stipulations about the food policy, everything. Jack listens to you closely, offering wordless support and allowing you to take your own time.

“Then, a day before arriving to Aguadilla,” you pause for a brief moment to pick the right words. “Guess you could say that a lot of things started happening. Soon after we’d had the first real talk with Gemma, Carmen came down to the brig and informed me in her wonderfully polite way that Delgado wanted a word. So, up to her quarters we went. All in all, it was a long conversation that I would’ve liked to avoid, truthfully. The things revealed that afternoon… I don’t know if I still fully comprehend them,” you admit quietly, chewing your lower lip in mounting anxiety. “I didn’t have much time to think about it all, really. Delgado had her half of the map right there on the table, and I just put all else aside and figured out a way to get it.”

Jack heaves a heavy sigh. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this one bit?”

“Because you won’t. I didn’t like it either, but I felt like I had no other choice,” you respond with a small, albeit despondent, smile on your lips.

“Despite the fact that I already dread the next words… go on,” Jack says with weary resignation after a minute.

You say quiet for a short moment, before starting to speak tentatively. “Well, in order to get the piece, I needed to divert Delgado’s attention from it. As she was already making a good show out of goading me in all ways possible, I just turned it around on her and did the same. It didn’t take her long to get hopping mad and give chase around the table.”

Jack’s stroking fingers still again. “Give chase…?”

You almost laugh out loud at Jack’s subdued but incredulous tone. “Aye. She chased me around the table a few times. Until I threw a chair at her.”

Utter silence. Your lips twitch as you curb the smirk about to form on your lips, waiting for Jack’s response. After what seem like minutes, Jack finally speaks up in slow, deliberate measures, as if not quite certain if he heard you correctly, “You threw Delgado with a chair.”

“Very gratifying, indeed,” you agree with no small amount of satisfaction. “It was a heavy chair, too.”

For another moment, Jack is quiet. However, very soon, the lovely chest your head is resting on trembles slightly as he’s overcome with gleeful chuckles. “That’s my girl,” he says appreciatively after a moment.

Nonsensically pleased by Jack’s words, you allow yourself a smile before going on with your tale. “So, while she strived to stay upright, I took the opportunity to nick the piece from the box and hid it in my bodice. Needless to say, Delgado wasn’t particularly amused about the chair incident, but instead of getting violent, she just sent me back to the brig,” you explain, pausing to put slight emphasis on your next words, “I knew it was nowhere near a good plan, but I was hoping to have enough time to hide the piece somehow before Delgado noticed it was missing. And I did – I managed to slip it to Gemma for safekeeping once out on the deck. Must have been that fool’s luck… even if it didn’t last quite as long as I had hoped for,” you say wryly, “As the theft was discovered only a moment later. Again, Delgado wasn’t very happy about it. Which is precisely why I’m now tinged black and purple all over; when she grew tired of not getting the whereabouts of the map out of me, she incited those nice ladies of hers on me.”

Jack’s grip tightens a little bit at this, and he asks in dangerous tone, “Delgado was the one who cut your forehead?”

“Aye,” you agree quietly.

A short sound of anger resonates from his throat. “I’ll break her bloody fingers for that,” he growls in low tone.

You smirk at his words, loving Jack’s angry zeal. “You’re so lovely when you get mad. Very manly.”

“Don’t try to distract me,” he replies with a tinge of playfulness in his semi-reprimanding tone.

“Just telling you the truth, is all.”

Jack chuckles; a pleasant, smooth sound you could listen till eternity’s end. “Alright,” he says after a moment, solemn again. “Then what?”

The brief levity vanishes like smoke in the wind as your thoughts again stray back to the Maldito and its dank, cold brig. Slowly, you pick up your story, bringing the events that happened after the beating back to your mind. You tell Jack about waking up after the long unconsciousness, how Gemma kept the map half hidden for you and how she somehow managed to come to the city with you. You don’t fail to mention Nerita’s odd helpfulness – even if not entirely willing – either. You explain how the trek into the city went, recalling your absolutely awful, nauseous state with distaste, and how Nerita and Gemma had taken you into that shabby inn you were supposed to wait in. And long at last, you give a detailed account of what exactly happened in the room that allowed you and Gemma to make your exit; how Inez burst in announcing Jack’s arrival, and the talk about the mysterious ten minute timeline. You tell Jack of Inez’s gleefully sadistic behaviour, and of Nerita’s sobriety that bordered on strange. You tell him how the taller woman pulled the pistol on you… and how she lied dead on the floor a blink of an eye later, shot down by Nerita. You explain Nerita’s reasoning and the brief talk of mutiny planned by Carmen, and how you’d knocked the first mate unconscious in attempt to make her appear blameless in Delgado’s eyes. Finally, you mention how Gemma gave you back the map piece, how the two of you started making your way out of the room – with rather poor success – and last but not least, running into Jack himself before losing consciousness again.

Silence descends once again as Jack thinks what you’ve just told him, and you wait patiently for him to say something.

“Darling,” Jack draws in a deep breath and lets it out, “I think it’s safe to say you’re the most foolish woman in the entire world.”

“Hey,” you protest half-heartedly just for the sake of protesting.

“Oh, be quiet, you know I’m right in this. What were you thinking when you pulled that stunt with the map? You’re stubborn, foolish, reckless and apparently completely unable to look after your own well-being!” Jack rants. “Hell, I have no idea how you’ve managed to stay alive for this long with that damn hard-headed nature of yours, I really don’t. You’re damn fortunate to have me keeping an eye on you from now on since it appears you’re obviously incapable of doing it yourself,” he adds in slightly calmer tone, though the edge of annoyance still lingers.

A wide, pleased grin spreads to your lips, and you lift your head from Jack’s chest to look into his eyes. “Do I really have you?”

The irritation in Jack’s eyes lessens as he holds your gaze. “Well, someone has to make sure you stay out of trouble and nobody else is stupid enough to take on such a trouble,” he says wryly, before smirking just a little, his tone softening slightly. “But then, as I’m known to be daft anyway, suppose I might as well live up to the image… aye?”

You give him a wry smile, rolling your eyes towards the ceiling as you think for a moment. “I’m not quite sure if that was the most romantic thing you could’ve said…” you pause, shifting your eyes back down to meet Jack’s and smirking. “But I take what I can.”

“Oh, I see.” Jack replies slowly with a smirk of his own. “Well, then. Would it be more romantic if I told you that I love you?”

Your smirk vanishes in an instant and your lips part in astonishment, your mind working furiously as you wonder whether you heard him correctly or not. “What?” you finally manage to blurt out.

Jack smiles at your flabbergasted look. “You heard me,” he says, a little teasingly, before lifting his free hand up to run his fingertips along your jaw line in light caress. “You may be foolish at times and you may be infuriatingly stubborn – and god, are you ever!” he gives a slight grin that fades away soon after, leaving behind that intently focused, slightly narrow-eyed look of solemnity. “But moreover… you’re beautiful, brave, loyal, sharp and brilliantly spirited. You’re my best friend. Simply said, you’re the most exceptional woman I’ve ever crossed paths with in my entire life, and I love you. With everything I am.”

You stare mutely into Jack’s dark orbs, reading from them the same emotion that you heard in his voice. Elation fills you as you fully understand Jack’s beautiful words, recognizing the unwavering sincerity behind them. Jack Sparrow loves me, the ecstatic thought keeps repeating in your head. Your throat begins to feel tight and you feel wetness gathering into your eyes, myriad of feelings running through your mind and heart – the strongest of them all was love.

“That was much better,” you reply quietly, unable to speak any louder.

Jack’s intense eyes bore into yours, captivating you as they always do. The weight of all the emotion you feel, and see reflected in Jack’s gaze clutch at your chest, shocking you with a sense of deep, profound joy that derives right from your heart – it’s an emotion unlike any you’ve ever felt before, but one that you already know you’ll cherish for the rest of your life. The heart-warming feeling within you continues to strengthen, and you cannot allow it to go undeclared any longer; urged by your love and passion, you swiftly close the meagre inches of space between you and crush your lips on Jack’s, whose response is immediate and no less ardent. You sigh softly in the kiss as Jack brushes his lips against yours with keen fervour, both of his hands now framing your face gently.

“I love you too, Jack,” you breathe happily against his lips with a smile as you pull apart, the once foreign words now easily spoken by both you and Jack. “I’ve never loved anyone like this before. I think I’ve loved you for a while already.”

Jack smiles brilliantly at your words, pleased and relieved. “Love you, darling,” he whispers huskily before claiming your lips into a loving, lingering kiss, pulling gently on your lower lip as he draws away. “Which is why it was so hard not being able to do anything. Don’t ever leave my sight like that again,” he murmurs, his eyes both pleading and serious at the same time.

You give Jack a sad smile, pressing a light kiss on his lips. “I won’t.”

Jack holds your gaze for a moment, nodding his head slightly in approval and giving a small smile. “Good. If there’s a next time, be assured I won’t let you off the hook so easily.”

You smirk, quirking your brows. “Your benevolence is duly noted, kind sir.”

Jack shakes his head ever so slightly, a smirk of his own tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You bloody sprite.”

You cock your head in amused puzzlement, a hesitant smile on your lips. “A what?”

Jack grins. “That’s what you remind me of, you cheeky, lively imp. Aye, definitely a sprite,” he says decisively.

You give a laugh and lay your head back on his chest. “You fool,” you mutter with a smile in gentle rebuke, although inwardly you actually like the appellation.

“You and I both then, eh?” Jack chuckles, and you roll your eyes with an amused smile, before heaving a soft sigh of contentment.

Comfortable silence descends, broken only by the soothing, familiar sounds of the Pearl’s timbers creaking quietly every now and then. You snake your left hand over Jack’s chest to rest upon his heart, feeling faintly the pulsing beat under your palm. Jack’s left hand, having been resting on your forearm, slides down your skin to cover your hand with his, curling his fingers around your hand but not removing it over his heart. Smile spreads to your lips once again at the poignant gesture, and at that moment you can’t imagine anything that would make you more blissful than you are now.

The beautiful scene is shattered, however, as your cursedly active mind reminds you that you still haven’t told Jack about the prophetess business… or Delgado’s revolting revelation. And you know you must, or else it will weight on your heart for as long as you keep quiet about it. Besides, another confrontation with Delgado seems likely if you’re going to where the Abyss is located, and she just might blurt it out herself, being the spiteful witch that she is. No, you wouldn’t or couldn’t take that risk. You would tell Jack yourself. Deciding to start from the easier end, you break the silence and speak up. “Jack?”

“Mmhmm?” he hums lazily, his fingers upon your neck having picked up their strokes.

“There are a few things I haven’t yet told you,” you say. “Things that I found out on the Maldito, serious things. I need to tell them to you.”

Jack is silent for a moment. “Alright,” he finally says, slight wariness in his tone. “Go ahead.”

“You remember the tales Lucas told us on Tortuga about Cassandra and her gift of foresight? And that bit about their spirits rising to the skies or something like that and waiting to be reborn?”

“Yes,” Jack agrees slowly, now clearly on his guard as he probably wonders where you’re going with all this.

You sigh heavily, plunging ahead before you lose your nerve. “I’ve been having these dreams lately that have in actuality become true, down to every detail. I had a vague dream about the beating onboard Delgado’s ship while we were on Tortuga, and it came true. And before that happened, in Delgado’s quarters, she asked me if I had seen dreams or visions like that. She guessed that I had, and claimed that… I am the prophetess reborn who gets glimpses into the future. Apparently only in my dreams, though, but that’s not the point. The point is that my damn dreams have actually come true, which is already unsettling, but a prophetess…” you trail off in exasperation, waiting Jack to say something. He doesn’t. “Jack?”

“So,” he speaks at last, his tone slow and thoughtful. “You possess a similar talent of seeing into the future, in your dreams, as opposed to the ancient prophetess who saw them even when awake?”

“Yeah, suppose,” you agree unenthusiastically.

Jack is quiet for a minute again, before replying in untroubled tone, “Well, alright.”

You blink, lifting your head to look at him. “Alright?” you repeat incredulously. “Alright?!”

“Think about it,” Jack says quickly, “It could be a useful. You could dream us the locations of lost treasures and the routes of different trade vessels… would make pilfering them very easy, wouldn’t you say…?” he grins broadly, and you realize he’s playing with you to make you feel better.

“Be serious!” you cry, trying to sound stern but failing miserably thanks to the smile that’s tugging on your lips.

“I am, I am,” Jack assures, now looking at you with solemn eyes. “Are you sure Delgado wasn’t just trying to manipulate you?”

“I don’t know,” you confess. “She sounded very serious. This Abyss business is very important to her; I doubt she’d make light of it just to play with my mind. And, it would explain the dreams of mine.”

“If you’re supposed to be this Cassandra incarnated, then wouldn’t your blood break the curse of the sword should it be unleashed?” Jack asks seriously.

“I guess it would, then,” you reply, not having actually thought about that earlier. “Well, at least we know how to put an end to that if it comes to pass. Mind you, one blood curse would’ve been enough,” you add wryly.

“Indeed,” Jack smirks, before gazing at you sombrely. “Was there anything else you wanted to tell me, as well?”

You swallow, nodding your head slightly. “Yes. But that’s a bit more…” you waver, “…difficult.”

His left hand slides up your left arm, rubbing up and down lightly in solace as he discerns your hesitancy. “You know you can tell me anything and it’ll stay between us.”

You lay your head back down on his chest, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes as you ready yourself to tell him the news. “I know that,” you whisper in return, never having doubted that. “But I don’t know if this is too much. I’m having problems accepting it, myself. I’m… worried about what you’ll think of me afterwards.”

“Don’t be stupid, luv,” Jack reprimands gently.

“But didn’t you just say I was the most foolish woman in the entire world?” you quip weakly.

Jack tilts his head slightly, his lips brushing against your forehead as he speaks softly, “That may be true, but you’re my foolish woman and I want to know what’s distressing you like this. So, please, talk to me.”

You close your eyes tightly at the edge of concern in Jack’s tone, feeling a slight sting behind your lids. Damn it, you would not start weeping again! Drawing in a steadying breath, you steel yourself and begin, “I mentioned earlier how resentful Delgado was being toward me and how she kept making snide comments about my parents. Turns out there’s more than meets the eye in that matter, entirely,” you coldly, pausing to calm yourself down a little.

“I don’t actually know much of my father’s life before he met my mother, he was never too keen on talking about that. I know he was no saint, of course. He never was. He was just a man, not much different than the others. He had the same… needs, as unpleasant as it is to even think about that of your own parent,” you say with weak amusement. “At any rate. Do you recall that day on Tortuga when she stopped by at the Bride, and I told you she seemed familiar to me?”

“I remember,” Jack responds softly.

“I should’ve pieced in the clues earlier, I should’ve known it, the way she was so tall…” you quieten suddenly, realizing you’d started ranting. Sighing, you go on. “Her eyes were familiar to me because I had seen them before. During the talk with Delgado, she suddenly sprang something completely unthinkable at me, something I immediately thought impossible. But as I thought about it, it didn’t appear so impossible any longer. And it was the most awful moment in my life, when I realized that.”

Unseen by you, Jack frowns in puzzlement. “Realized what, luv?” he asks softly.

You wet your dry lips briefly before answering. “That was she was saying was true. That my father had once, years before he met my mother, stopped by in Aguadilla on one his journeys and spent a night with pleasurable company known by the name of Esperanza Delgado. And what happens if not the obvious; the woman gets pregnant and gives birth to a girl… and names her Gabriela.”

Jack’s fingers upon your neck still their soothing movements.

“She has my father’s eyes, Jack. Because my father is her father, as well,” you whisper in strained voice, blinking rapidly to keep the bloody tears at bay. “I share blood with that horrible bitch,” you add almost inaudibly, starting to pull away from Jack – only to have him pull you back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for your answer. “Alright, your father paid a woman to keep him company, as many men tend to do. Unfortunately she got pregnant, as sometimes happens, as she birthed Delgado. Correct me if I’m wrong, but your father had nothing to do with Esperanza after that night, aye?”

“No,” you reply quietly.

“No,” Jack repeats, satisfied. “Did he know about this… incident?”

“No…”

“No. Again, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m guessing you’re feeling some sort of guilt over this. Don’t you?”

You stay silent, unable to dress your feelings about this into words. Perhaps you did; some part of you was ashamed and, indeed, guilty about this, like it was somehow your fault.

“I’m taking your silence as agreement because I’d like to think I have an inkling on how your mind works,” Jack says, an edge of affection in his tone. “However, that is where your reasoning fails,” he says adamantly, lifting his hand to brush back a few strands of hair from your temple. “Look at me, luv.”

Sucking in a silent breath, you comply and lift your head to stare into Jack’s honest eyes.

“Children aren’t responsible for their parent’s deeds. Especially when they haven’t even been born at the time. What happened was unfortunate, yes, but it happened. You may share some blood with her, yes, but that’s nothing but genetics – she’s not your sister, and she’s definitely not family. It doesn’t matter, darling. It doesn’t matter who you may or may not be related with, because they are not who make you you, savvy? You’re still that same, wonderful woman you were before you found out about this, and I love you just as much as I did a few moments ago. It doesn’t matter,” he repeats, looking you deep in the eyes. “Don’t you think for a second it would.”

Your throat tightens painfully and you pull your lower lip between your teeth briefly, struggling to control your emotions that are running rampant. That was precisely what you had been wishing and hoping to hear when you readied yourself to tell Jack about this. At the same time, you had been so afraid Jack wouldn’t understand. But of course he did, you tell yourself. You really were a damn fool for ever doubting him.

“Are you sure?” you ask quietly, wanting to make sure.

“Absolutely positive,” Jack says in low tone, lifting his head slightly from the pillows to kiss you in affirmation to his assessment. You waste no time meeting his lips, closing your eyes at the sweet touch and allowing yourself to be lost in the wonderful kiss that confirms the love that has already been spoken.

“I knew there was a reason why I loved you,” you say huskily with a happy smile as you break apart, basking in the amazing feeling of being loved and loving in return.

Jack quirks a mischievous brow. “My dashing looks and brilliant mind?”

You give a low laugh. “Besides those. You’re just such a good man with a big heart, even though you try to deny it all the time.”

“Careful there,” Jack warns you in low tone, even if his eyes gleam warmly. “I might have to do something to keep you from talking if you start sprouting nonsense like that.”

You grin widely. “Oh, that sounds like fun...”

Jack smirks, affection dancing in his brown orbs as he gazes at you. “A sprite. Definitely.”

You hold his eyes for a long time, neither of you saying anything. You’re aware of the sense of catharsis that fills you, all the tensions having been heaped up upon your shoulders during the past days disappearing and leaving you. You smile genuinely, realizing abruptly that you’re feeling better and happier than in years, despite everything that has happened.

“Well, this sprite is a bit bushed still, so if you don’t mind…” you trail off with a small smirk and rest your head again on Jack’s chest, closing your eyes and heaving a contended sigh.

“Make yourself comfortable, why don’t you?” Jack’s amused voice says, and you grin.

“That was my intention, yes.”

Jack chuckles softly, his fingers lightly caressing your neck once again as your weariness starts taking its toll on you, your breathing evening out as sleep starts to slowly overtake you. The last thing you’re aware of before falling into peaceful slumber are Jack’s soft lips as they brush against your forehead in a tender kiss.

* * * * *

A/N: I'm really sorry for the long wait, truly I am. I can only hope this appeased you, mates. :) Sorry for possible typos, mushyness and OOC-ness as well. Meh. Anyway, I would like to announce that I have to put my writings aside for about three weeks as of today. As some may know, I have *drumroll* applied to University to study literature, and the selection tests for that are held on June 6th. I honestly, really want to get in there, but as they only take 14 new students in, I must ace my tests with flying colours - and that means I have to study like hell for them. I have two books that I must read and a third one that I practically have to memorize, so I hope you understand that this stydying thing will take all my free time until June. So, I doubt I will have much time to write. I'm not saying I'll abandon my fics completely during these weeks, but don't wait with bated breath for updates. Sorry for the inconvenience, truly, but getting into Uni is something I really, really want to do. Wish me luck mates, I'll be needing it! :) Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and again; I adore reviews. There's just no way around it. Ta, darlings, love you!

CHAPTERS 36-40

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