AN: This takes place during AWE, or POTC3. Remember that this is just my nonsense, not actual events. If these happenings do occur, I will die of shock. They are based off of spoilers, though. Contains a bit of drama, an honorable mention of Mr. Turner, and a silly cameo by Hector Barbossa. No apple, though, more's the pity.
Warnings: A bunch of innuendos, but nothing past PG-13. Bits of spoilers for potc3, naturally.
Pairings: J/BP, J/T, J/E
Disclaimer: Bah! I own nothing!
.Two Hearts.
The Black Pearl gently rocked back and forth in a lulling motion, still in the calm waters. It was mid-afternoon, the crew set to their tasks relatively quietly. Warming sunshine encompassed a great portion of the captain's cabin, its entrance permitted by the plated windows. Such things had been replaced and refurbished from past attacks due to phantom ships and mythical sea beasts.
A quiet moan elicited from a secluded corner where the sun's rays just barely touched. Captain Jack Sparrow sat up, stretching like a cat and emitting a silent yawn. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his hands over his face, forcing the sleep out of himself. It had been some time since he'd awoken at such an hour.
After another brief yawn, his dark bare eyes, which were normally lined in kohl, casually surveyed the room in search of his shirt.
Following a fleeting hunt, he gave up and took to admiring his dark lady ship. A loving smile ghosted over his lips. They truly were of one soul. He began to recount their moments together, and his smile faded as he recalled many painful memories.
Jack rubbed absentmindedly at his branded forearm.
Fire... watery darkness… mutiny… years of separation… his debt… a kraken.
What battles he had fought for this ship.
Jack bit his lower lip and sighed, about to rise from the comfort of his bed. However, the sudden slight weight on his bare shoulder made him pause. He turned his head so that he could rest his gaze on the dark feminine hand that held him back. A pleased smirk spread on his face as his attention flickered then to another pair of black eyes.
Tia Dalma smiled, sleep still laced in her features. "And where do you thinks you are off to, my fledgling?" she questioned with a knowing chide, pulling him back to her.
Jack huffed good-naturedly and allowed her to draw him backwards until he rested comfortably on his back, his head on her stomach while the crook of her arm held him upright. "Nowhere important," he confessed as she played with his hair, brushing it away from his face.
"A captain must tend to him ship," she mused softly. "A ship well-earned."
"Mm," Jack acknowledged, his eyes closing as she traced her fingers lightly over his lips and jaw line. She remembered the touch of those lips on her own, and it pleased her.
She truly admired this man. He intrigued her greatly. She appreciated how the golden rays reflected off his bronze skin, and all the scars that decorated his form. She was older than he, but he had always seemed far wiser than his age called for. She knew he did not remove his masks for many women, if at all any. She briefly wondered if it was because of her hold over him. She mused that it was partly the case.
He was different than other men. It was because he knew things. Things that mortal men should not know.
He knew of the sea, and how such a lady could never be tamed. He spoke to his ship as if she were living--and oh, what a jealous mistress she was. The Pearl was not akin to share with land. Nor was she akin to share with the living, feminine sort. This was the Pearl's captain, and no other's.
While Tia could sense the possessiveness beneath her, it was not as strong as it surely could have been. She believed it was because the dark lady recognized her.
The captain, however, was drawn to the gypsy woman. Perhaps it was because he was familiar with her chains, and he sought to free her. She couldn't be certain, which irritated her, yet warmed her all the same.
Maybe it was because of this. She had always known the hearts of men, but Sparrow was not so easily read. This was why he intrigued her--why she genuinely fancied more than tolerated his attention.
He was of the sea. As one with it. As one with his ship. There were not many men left with such traits. It was a pity.
Her eyes watched his form as he sighed again with contentment. She tilted her head and traced her hand over his cheek, his skin smooth beneath her fingers.
Then again, perhaps it wasn't such a pity.
Too much of a good thing… could be a disaster.
Captain Jack Sparrow was certainly no disaster. To her heart perhaps, but not to the sea. Lady Luck seemed to be in love with him. She could tell by the gentle lapping of the waves at the Pearl's hull that the sea adored him.
She smiled, and he opened his eyes, a faint playful gleam in them.
"Did I thank you yet for saving my life?" he inquired nobly.
Her smile grew into a grin as she stared down at him from her slight sitting position on the bed. Having her arms full of Jack Sparrow pleased her more than she thought it would. "You did," she affirmed, "more than once."
He chuckled and sat up slightly, and she wrapped her bare arms around his strong shoulders. "Indeed, I did," he agreed with a grin, settling himself into a more comfortable position. "But you went through an awful lot to get me back," he reminded, the playful gleam in his eyes now more pronounced.
A soft laugh escaped her lips and Sparrow seemed pleased with it. "You have no idea, Jack Sparrow."
He pouted in parody of the situation. "Then our debt is not yet settled, I rather fear."
"Yes," she nodded. "You know I demand payment."
Sparrow's eyes looked up at her, wide and innocent. "Mmmm... what sort of payment?" he asked throatily, his smirk returning.
She gazed down at him adoringly. "Fair payment," she said matter-of-factly, "Good payment. Better than our last encounter." She smiled, knowing her words would irritate him.
They did.
This time, the pout was authentic. He looked away from her, his cheeks suddenly rosy. She fought the urge to laugh at his discomfort.
"Last time," he began with feeling, fighting for words, "I had two bullets lodged in my hide, so it was hardly fair judgment on your part." He continued to mumble, looking like a battered puppy.
"Oh." She smiled softly.
"Oh," he mocked, slouching in her arms, his pride deflated.
"I apologize," she amended. "For wit' that forgotten knowledge, it was quite impressive."
He smiled slightly. It seemed he had forgiven her. "A valiant effort for a man half-dead?"
She shook slightly with mirth, her musical laughter carrying within the confines of the cabin. "Truly, then, it t'was indeed."
"That's what I thought," he huffed, sticking up his chin before resting it on her shoulder as she traced gentle patterns on his back.
"About that payment, Jack Sparrow," she reminded softly.
She could feel him smirk against her. "Yes, about that."
She giggled uncharacteristically as his arms snaked around her waist through the bed covers. She and him both knew they were speaking of something far greater than playful bedtime activities, for he had made a promise to her long ago. A promise he intended to keep. Jack Sparrow could never stand to see another free spirit caged.
Tia's heart leapt. It was only a matter of time, now.
She felt his lips on her throat and hugged him to herself, smiling and closing her eyes in contentment.
Jack felt the thrumming of her vocal chords beneath his lips as she laughed, and he smiled against her, running his hands up her arms.
A sudden knock ruined their moment.
"Cap'n?" Gibbs' voice was stifled from behind the closed cabin door.
Jack growled into the pillow and Tia smiled approvingly, smoothing her hand over his hair in comfort, playing with the ends of his bandana. True, she was just as disappointed that they had been interrupted, but it was by time they greeted the outside world. Besides, there was plenty of time to make up for what they were denied.
"Yes, Gibbs?" Sparrow all but snapped, his voice muffled by the pillow.
Not even the light-hearted Gibbs could ignore the venom in those words; muffled or not. "You're alone, ain't you?" He questioned carefully.
"In fact, I'm not," Jack lamented, sitting up slightly.
"…Oh," he heard Gibbs' hesitant and regretful response. "Apologies, sir."
"Forgiven, but not forgotten; what is it?"
"We got Tortuga on our horizon, shall we make for it?" Gibbs queried, getting down to business.
"How are our stores?" his captain asked.
"Fair, but they could use a fill."
Jack nodded, though Gibbs could not see it. "The Turtle, it is, Joshamee. Make for it, I'll be out soon."
Before he could turn his attention back fully to the woman he was recently sharing his bed with, Gibbs spoke once more. "Oh, Miss Swann be wantin' to have a word with you, should I send her in? Are you decent?"
Jack's face fell, the words striking him like a cannon shot.
Tia's smile faded and her eyes fell downcast. Just like that, he was gone from her enchanting hold. At the very mention of the girl's name, he was no longer susceptible to her charms.
Before Jack could protest, he could hear the irritated complaints of a familiar voice. Faintly he made out things like: "bloody", "lazy", and a certain lack of caring if he had had proper beauty rest or not. If the situation were different, he might have admired what a fine pirate she was becoming.
The cabin door burst open and Elizabeth made her entrance. "Jack, I need…" her voice trailed off as she took in the sight before her.
Jack cleared his throat, trying not to meet her gaze. "Was there something?"
Elizabeth Swann regained her composure impressively. Sniffing and licking her lips, she told him, "Well, I was going to ask you if you would help me at the helm, but… seeing as you're busy, I'll figure it out myself." With that, she made her departure.
Jack lowered his head slightly, feeling a surprising flicker of guilt. Tia's head was bowed, and a soft sigh escaped her lips. They remained in silence for some time.
"Follow her," she said finally.
Jack met her eyes, as if he were seeking proper permission. It was so out of his character that she had to let him go. She nodded her head towards the door, a faint smile, sad, on her lips. "Go on."
He said nothing in return, only rose from the bed and left.
Elizabeth was seething, marching haughtily across the deck, muttering angrily to herself inside her head. Mutterings about how they were working, and Jack Sparrow was playing. Sure, it was not backbreaking work--as nothing pressing was currently at hand, but her mind was also muttering other things.
"Oi!" His voice startled her from her thoughts. She shook her head and fought to ignore him, quickening her pace.
"Elizabeth!" he called again; his speed was a match for hers, and soon he was nearly at her side.
Barbossa watched from his post, rolling a coil around his hand and elbow. He entertained the thought of tripping the underclad captain, but decided against it, not wishing to incur his wrath so early in the day.
"Love, wait!"
She cast a careless glance back at him and scoffed, shaking her head, seeing that he still only wore his breeches. "Put some clothes on; have some decency."
The crew seemed to spare a curious pondering their way, but otherwise remained loyal to their duties.
Jack reached forward and seized her wrist, holding her back. She whipped around and glared at him menacingly enough to where he released her.
"What is wrong?" was all he could think of to say.
"Nothing is wrong," she snapped stubbornly.
He could only stare at her, fighting to decipher her reasoning. His lips were compressed into a thin line, his brow furrowed. A portion of her didn't appreciate his study of her, that same portion wondering why she was angry with him.
"You're jealous, aren't you?" He had the nerve to say.
Or, at least, that certain portion thought he had the nerve. "What?" she hissed.
He crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't understand it. You have a wonderful whelp waiting for you when we finally meet up with him again. I mean, truly: he's loyal and caring; noble, lawful… a girl like you couldn't ask for much more. Frankly, I don't know where this is coming from. We worked out our feelings." He was baiting her. She knew it. "We should be as right as--"
She slapped him.
His head snapped to the side from the surprising force of the blow. However, it wasn't as sting-happy as it could have been.
He remained still for a moment, shaking his head slightly to rid himself of the ringing in his ears. "…rain," he finished quietly, his eyes finally meeting hers again. "Did I really deserve that?"
It pained him that her eyes were glimmering with unshed tears. She was biting the inside of her lip, her jaw quivering as she shook her head, releasing an unsteady breath. She tore away from his gaze. "I hate you…" she whispered.
His carefree façade barely faltered on the outside, but inside, he was crumbling. "No, you don't," he told her. She looked back to him, her eyes red and unsure. "In fact," he stepped nearer, continuing to take a step for each phrase, "I think… that you are quite fond of me." He had her trapped against the wooden planks, a hand placed beside her face.
She couldn't meet his eyes. "He betrayed you," she said quietly, meaning Will.
"I know he did, but I promised you I'd take you to him, didn't I?" He tilted his head, watching her carefully. "I don't just make promises to anyone who asks, you know."
She sniffed, her jaw continuing to tremble. "I know," she whispered finally.
He remained silent, but his free hand came up to rest against her neck, his thumb brushing along her jaw. "Perhaps we haven't worked out our feelings quite yet," he mused softly.
She leaned into his touch, comforted by his presence. But she could not think of him now. And if his presence was at hand, it would defy her reasoning. She raised her eyes to meet his.
Jack felt his chest tighten at the sight of the two moist rivers that had left their mark down her cheeks.
"Please, Jack…" she said quietly, "go."
His black gaze bore into hers, calm and still. He let out a heavy sigh, his lips in that same line. He brought his hand up once more, the backs of his knuckles feathering over her skin, brushing at her tears while he fulfilled his want to be able to touch her. He thought about kissing her, and he wanted to very much, but he also knew it was not the comfort she needed right now.
Another brush at her hair, and he allowed himself to smile, if only so very faintly. "Of course, Lizzie."
And then, he drew away, his hand sliding from its rest against the planks, and he left her.
Elizabeth released a breath, shaken as she leaned heavily against the planks, watching him depart. No, she could not think of him now.
She could not think of his voice; not how he had given her her first taste of freedom--made sweeter intertwined with the taste of his lips. Nor could she think of how wonderfully the sun made his bronzy tone seem to glow, reflecting off every muscle and every shadow. She could not think of the scars, either--the scars that intrigued her and invited her into his world, invited her into the legend and begged her to accept such a life. And she could most certainly not think to remember the look in his eyes when she had asked him to leave.
Tia sat quietly, unmoved, in the bed; the covers were still wrapped comfortably around her form. She heard the gentle creak of wood and looked up as the captain entered, looking broken.
He did not look at her as he moved over to his desk and quietly pulled on his boots, followed by a brief search for his shirt, before donning that. He didn't even bother with his vest, only his effects, and then his coat.
He stood over his desk, his hands resting on his hat while his fingers played absentmindedly with the leather stitching. "We'll be making port in hour," he said quietly, his head bowed.
She nodded, staring at the bed sheets. "Yes."
Silence again. But only for a moment.
"I'll be at the helm," he said, turning his head to finally meet her eyes, "if you need me."
She nodded, and watched as he left, his head hung low and his steps unenthusiastic.
It was a dangerous thing, what she had gotten herself into. She thought she could still see him even after the door was closed. Such an act seemed to signify the closing of something more inside her.
Sparrow was such a magnificent creature. Free. Untouched by the corruptions of man. He was wild and untamable like the sea itself.
And forever would he hold a place in her heart.
The devil would hate him for that.
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