Left Behind
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: I'm a girl, which makes it impossible for me to be Jerry Bruckheimer. Unless he's not telling us something….
a/n: Hello, friends. This is the sequel to "One Day I'll Fly Away". I hope you'll enjoy it and REVIEW (cough). I'm aware this chapter is short, but it's more of a setup and teaser. Florencia, you know I'm counting on you. I may actually ask you for advice on my story. You, too, AbbieNormal.
One could usually gauge Jack's mood by where he spent his time on his beloved ship. When he was feeling particularly joyful or enthusiastic, he could be found anywhere among the rigging, the masts, or the crow's nest. When frustrated or angry, he remained holed up in his cabin. At times of adventure, excitement, or when he was looking forward to something, his home was the helm. Times spent in depression, apprehension, or exhaustion were at the stern of the Pearl. These days, he lived at the back.
Today was no different from the past week. Jack leaned against the railing of the Pearl, his face hard and expressionless, mouth pulled taught into a firm line, jaw clenched. At last count, he had only left the stern for rum and when "nature called." It was becoming a familiar place. He hadn't learned his lesson before, but he wasn't a man who needed to have things told him more than once. Women were lying, no good, dirty, rotten cheats, liars, and every other unpleasant word he could think of. With a sudden, unexpected, and incredibly powerful wave of rage, he pounded his fist to the wood with a cry. Rubbing his face with his hands, he regained his composure. He hadn't meant to lose his temper like that.
It was just… he had thought she was different. She had seemed different. Her wide-eyed innocence, proper upbringing, they way she had loved him so sincerely, so completely…. He thought that made her different. Apparently not. His promises to love her, to bring her anything she could possibly ask of him, going against everything he ever thought, wanted, or stood for by proposing marriage just wasn't enough for her. He supposed she wanted the life of corsets, carriages, and children and had gone back to Cristiánto get it. Never mind that the dog had abused her and threatened her life.
Daily he battled himself, fighting the urge to track her down, find her, and bring her back. He wanted nothing more than to throw her over his shoulder and keep her on his ship, no matter how hard or long she protested. But, inconvenient Reason always took over and reminded him: it was a big world. Who knew where she could be? Besides, the crew had never been particularly… fond of the girl. They had always hid it for his sake, but he knew. Along with reason was the annoying, pestering, enduring love he felt for her. If she left, surely it was not on a whim, he reasoned. If nothing else, she had lost interest in him, and sought someone else to make her happy. And God knew he wanted nothing more than for her to be happy.
It was ridiculous that he should keep falling into this position. He was Captain Jack Sparrow, for God's sake! To have three women walk out on him and still feel this horribly—it was ludicrous!
With a soft sigh he closed his eyes and remembered, for the thousandth time that day, to forget he had ever known Celeste Satine.