Disclaimer: I own no one from Pirates. I'm just using the characters for my own little selfish purposes. I'd like to own Jack but then again, he'd probably find some way to run away from me and I don't really feel like chasing a pirate around.
A/N: Well, this is my first venture into POTC. I've written quite a number of fanfiction before, just never done anything…piratey. I wanted to explore Anamaria's character and how she might feel towards Jack, and to also show the softer size of her personality. I hope this is all in character and I hope everyone likes it.
Watching Her
She saw him leave out of the corner of her eyes. Leave in his usual stagger, with a tall bottle of rum in his hands. She wondered if he had walked like that before he had gone mad with the heat ten years prior. Of course, she could not imagine him with any other kind of walk. It was befitting to his look, his attitude, and his sort of perverse way of life.
They often called her a wretch, whenever she bossed them into doing something they did not wanted to do, or when she shouted at them. Of course, they called her that so many times now that it has become more a term of endearment, instead of an insult. She didn't mind, deep down, the whole crew was fond of each other, and she had managed to earn their respect, even if she was the only woman on board. Among this daft crew, she was the voice of reason and sense, quite unusual for a pirate.
She stepped from the booming, loud Mess Hall, away from the festivities that were taking place, and the drunken pirates. She didn't normally adhere to that type of behavior, but then again, they did just get their captain back and the time for rum was at hand.
Sometimes, she would wish that there was another female, just for company (and for someone to share that dear time of the month with). She had experienced such company when that very beautiful, but very daft, Elizabeth Swann was on board. But for a time, however short it was, she had actually felt the company of another woman and that had provided a small comfort, though she did not know why she needed such a comfort. Perhaps it was because she needed someone to talk to (she never did have any riveting female-orientated conversations with Miss. Swann, they barely talked at all, nothing that was not related to fierce pirate ships and daft captains).
The air was cool that night, and the moon was full. In the back of her mind, she half-expected the crew to turn into skeletons, even herself, even him. She had seen what had happen to the previous crew, and their demonic, terrifying faces. And it had succeeded into giving her a few nightmares, not that she would admit it to anyone. She could see him bring his hands up and looking at it, and a chill swept through her, of what the origin was, she was not sure. A salty breeze blew pass, making both of their hair sway, and the beads on his clinked together, the sound echoing into the night.
Maybe it was the lack of anyone worthwhile to talk to on the ship. It wasn't that they were too crude (which was true to an extent) and thus, didn't amount to good conversations, but she had a rough time…how did one put it… connecting with people. She wasn't exactly the easiest person to get close to, others would say (no thanks to Jack Sparrow who had "borrowed" her boat and never gave it back, he never even asked). That was one of the things that annoyed her the most about the infernal captain (for now, he did promise to give her another boat, but ever since he had came back from the noose at Port Royal, they had not spoken of it). He had the tendency to take things, without asking, and to never give it back. And on that rare occasion that he did give it back, it was more or less, in shambles. No doubt her precious boat had long been at the bottom of the sea, in a few dozen pieces.
He took another drink from the rum bottle as he went, and his staggering steadily became worse. She had to shake her head, it was amazing, the love between Jack and rum, and how much alcohol he could take at one time. For herself, she appreciated a good drink now and then, but it was rare that she became drunk. She hated it, the headaches the morning after, the disorientation, and not knowing what stupid things one did the night before. Jack seemed to rejoice in the alcohol, of getting up with the headache in the morning. It seemed as if whenever he had a bottle in his hand, nothing could tear him apart from it. She suddenly admired Elizabeth for being able to separate Jack from his rum, and even burning it. The pirate still complained about it, with mutterings of, "All the rum, gone to waste. Crazy woman…"
Jack finally reached his intended destination, which was the steering wheel of the ship, where Gibbs was manning it. She had a feeling that he would rather be drinking with the rest of the crew down below. Of course, she had never expected that Jack be the one to take over for the man, not when there was plenty of rum and festivities down below. She stayed at the deck, leaning against the railing and looking up. "That will be all Mr. Gibbs, let Jack take over from here."
"Are ye sure, ye wouldn't rather be down below with the crew," came the gruff voice of the man.
"I'm sure that I'd rather be up here, spending some quality time with my lady love," said his quite slurred voice. So that was why. She could understand it, he had lost the Black Pearl twice, and she could see that he was scared of losing her again.
"Whatever you say captain, you take good care of her now," was the answer and Gibbs came down. He spotted the female pirate and walked up to her. "Make sure that he doesn't fall asleep at the helm." She nodded and he left.
Suddenly, there was humming and she could her some fragments of a song. Funny, where did he learn that? "Really bad eggs…up, me hearties yo ho…yo ho, a pirate's life for me…" What a ridiculous song! And yet, the tune was quite catchy and it brought a smile to her face. She stood there for a while, listening to him sing and hearing his voice becoming more slurred. "Come up here luv! Standing down there by yourself can't be a lot of fun!"
She came up and there he was, standing behind the wheel, with a goofy smile on his face, and the bottle of rum nearly empty. "Anamaria! Beautiful night isn't it!"
"How much have you had to drink Jack?" she asked, hand on her hips.
He put up his hands and started counting his fingers, "You know what? I dunno, too many to count!"
She shook her head, only Jack would be daft enough to attempt to steer a ship while intoxicated. "Come on Jack, let's get you to bed."
"Bed? I love beds! Comfy, soft…things they are. Very good for sleeping or jumping on or for fooling around!"
She had to roll her eyes. "Well Jack, I've no desire to hear about the things you do on your bed but we need to get you on it." She approached him and put one arm around his waist, easing his hands away from the wheel.
He shook his head. "Nope, nope. I have to watch the Pearl, she can't watch herself you know. And if I leave, she might sail away from me again," and he made a sailing motion with his hands.
She pulled him away, much to his unhappiness, but he didn't refuse. "We took good care of her during your absence and we'll make sure she'll not sail away from you again."
"You got a good point there, luv," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and resting his face against her neck. "I'll take you up on it."
She could feel herself stiffening. She could smell the rum in his breath, and she could smell sweat, salt, and a scent that was strangely…him. She tried to ignore the heat emitting from her, and was thankful that he was too intoxicated to notice. "You're so warm," he said softly, "And you smell nice." Not exactly the most unusual compliment she had ever received, but it was close.
He nuzzled against her neck, and she could feel a tingle from the spot he rubbed. On any normal day, he probably would have been slapped, and she would have never let him get this close. She prided herself on one of the few women that Jack had failed to bed; otherwise she believed that she would have been unable to ever look herself in the mirror. Though sometimes, she wondered…nope, don't even think about that. But he did feel quite nice against her neck…nope, what did one say about not thinking.
They finally reached his chambers and she sat him on the bed, letting him take one final drink of the rum before gingerly taking the bottle away from him, much to his objection. "It's empty, Jack. If you let me dispose of that, I'll bring you another bottle."
He looked at her, with a kind of pout on his lips, "Promise?" She shook her head, he was such a child sometimes. She removed his hat, placing it aside, then removed his vest, along with his shirt. He did not say anything, but tried his best to assist her in taking off his clothes (but she could tell that he would have been fine just watching her undress him, bloody pirate). Her eyes glanced at the scars upon his tanned chest, from bullet wounds and what remained of stitches, along with the tattoos upon his wrists. He said nothing, and he did not seem to notice her looking at him. His eyes wandered upon her face, his expression pensive (that was a first).
"What are you looking at?"
He didn't answer but instead, lifted his hand and removed the gray hat she usually wore, letting her hair fall to her shoulders. "Now why hide a beautiful face like that?" His hand lifted and entangled in her hair, his attention diverted, as if amused by the color or by the way if flowed or something of the sort.
She could say nothing. Their eyes met for a moment and it seemed that his dark amber ones were quite clear for one under alcoholic influence. She tore hers away and bent down to remove his boots. He lifted his feet and she wondered when she had been demoted to the position akin to that of a maid. As long as none of the other crewmen expected her to wash clothes or to (goodness forbid) cook, then she would be fine.
"You have to be one of the most incredibly daft pirate I have ever met," she said, taking her hat back.
"Luv, you say daft like it's a bad thing," he said, in his own, cocky way, his voice slurred. She laid him down, trying to ignore the feeling of his chest beneath her fingertips, and covered him with the blanket. "After all, it was me daftness that got me back the Pearl."
Yes, and it was also that which had gotten him stranded on that island, and almost killed numerous times. But it never seemed to faze him the slightest. "Whatever you say, Captain, have a good rest."
She turned to leave and then, there was a tug on her hand. She looked down to him again, and saw that Jack had grabbed her hand. "Thank you luv, for looking after her for me." He raised her palm up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on it. Their eyes met again, her dark ones and his kohl-lined ones.
Anamaria quickly pulled her hand away, her heart suddenly beating faster, "Just doing my duty, Captain," she managed to choke out.
He leaned back down on his pillow, closing his eyes, "Now, I expect you scabrous dogs to take good care of her, if I see one timber missing, then it'll be Davy Jones' Locker with you, savvy?"
"Aye, aye Captain," she said, blowing out the candle and closing the door, but not before taking one more look at her roguishly handsome and charming (what the?) captain before leaving.
She went back up to the wheel, and placed her hand upon it. Nothing was up ahead other than ocean, the moon was full, and a salty breeze blew upon the air. She let out a breath that she had not been aware of holding. That was…interesting. She touched the place where on her neck where he had been, suddenly missing that warmth. She held up her hand and glanced at the place where he had kissed. Shaking her head, she placed the hand back on the wheel. If she did not know any better, she would have thought that he had just attempted to seduce her. No, that wasn't it, he was just acting like himself, and taken a lot more liberties than she would have normally allowed him to take. If he had been in his right mind (which wasn't often, but if he had been a bit more sober), she didn't think she would ever have allowed him to get so close. Then why did she allow him that privilege just now? Deep inside, she wondered what would happen if she had…say…allowed him to stay at her neck, what would have happen there.
The rational part of her brain suddenly kicked back in with a force. What was happening to her? Perhaps it had been so long since she had gotten close to a man that she had missed how it felt. Then again, she never remembered it feeling like…what Jack made it feel. But then, maybe she was just desperate. She pushed that thought away from her mind (no use in focusing on the actions of a drunk man) and instead, focused on the sea of water ahead of them, waiting to lead them to a different place.
She sighed again, "Well Pearl, it's just you and me tonight."
Fin…
A/N: Well…what did everyone think? Just push that little button below to review. Please review, please! I would love to know your opinions. Should I continue, or should I just quit before I'm ahead?