How 'bout a bug HUZZA! for such a quick update??? You're all gems.

"Après moi le déluge."

After me comes the flood.

Regina Spektor – Après Moi

---

Jack sits up from bed, covered in a cold sweat, his breathing shallow. Frantically, he turns and pulls the sheets back from the bed, revealing the slumbering figure of Sadie, her hair fanned about her head like a halo. Jack, eyes wide from fright, drops the sheet and places his hand against his heart beating in a mad tattoo. At his side, Sadie murmurs something and blinks awake, struggling against the desire to go back to sleep. Something was wrong with Jack. She sits up and immediately notices Jack's heavy breathing, the white sheets pooling in his lap and his knuckles white from clutching the mattress in a deathly grip. Sadie tries to say his name to shake him out of it, but to no avail. Roughly, she plants both hands on either side of the man's face, turns him towards her and bites his lower lip. Jack instantaneously yelps and shakes his head, looking at his woman dumbly.

"What'd you do that for, then?"

Sadie gives him an incredulous look.

"Jack, you looked like you couldn't even breathe for a moment! I had to snap you out of it! It could have been worse."

At this remark, the pirate pauses. He closes his eyes and smirks, dropping his shoulders. Silence overtakes the room, save for the sound of rustling as Sadie moves behind Jack. He sighs, reveling in the warmth of her naked embrace, the silky tickle of her hair against his back and shoulders and neck.

"I thought I told you never to scare me like that again, Jack," she whispers, her arms wrapped around his chest and her legs on either side of his hips, keeping him from moving. Not that he would want to. Jack nods, placing a hand on Sadie's forearm.

"Apologies, love. Just a bad dream is all."

He knows without having to look that Sadie is giving him that look again.

"Jack, you were drenched in sweat, you were gripping onto the sheets for dear life, and you almost weren't breathing – forgive me if I'm being over observant, but that seems more than 'just a bad dream' to me."

She got him cornered with no way out. Jack smiles and lolls his head back, turning it just enough to look into Sadie's eyes. Her sincere worry, however, throws him off. His smile falters and the hand on her arm tightens. Without a word, Jack leans back up and twists himself around to face her, burying his free hand in her hair. He sighs and casts his gaze to the sheets twisted in his lap.

"You got taken from me."

He looks into Sadie's eyes again – those big blue depths that never ceased to enrapture him and never let him go. She blinks once, twice, and then kisses him. Jack's eyebrows disappear underneath the red bandana, but his fingers stiffen at the back of her neck, pulling her mouth harder against his, lacing the kiss with the dread and the pain and the sorrow he had felt in the dream. His lower lip is still sore from her biting him, but Jack easily could take that than losing her any day. Pulling away, Sadie caresses the side of Jack's face with her soft knuckles, unknowingly passing them over a small white scar left from Peter Codney's fist.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" She says, maneuvering her fingertips over every inch of his face. Jack nods, releasing a breath. He feels the cool wind blowing in from the open door leading out to the veranda. Sadie leaves a kiss on his cheek and begins to slide out of bed, whispering something about getting some water for him. Jack watches as his moonlit woman crosses the room to the wardrobe, removing a heavy red silk robe and pulling it on. Jack smiles.

"That one's mine."

Sadie winks back at him and leaves the room still tying the belt around her waist. As she passes from sight, Jack's face falls and he, too, slides out of bed and goes to the wash basin sitting on the table across the room, splashing water in his face and resting his hands on the table top, letting the liquid drop loudly back into the bowl. Looking into the mirror, Jack stares back at his reflection for a moment, a flicker of anger appearing in his dark eyes.

"Like hell," he husks, turning away and crawling back into bed in time before Sadie appears in the doorway, holding a glass of water in her hands. She walks over to Jack and sits at his side, handing him the glass. He quietly thanks her and takes it, closing his eyes as he drinks. Sadie watches, amorously, his Adam's apple move up and down as he swallows. The way his fingers grip the glass. She stares as he pulls it away from his mouth, leaving a dribble of water hanging from his already abused lower lip. Sadie beats him to the punch, kissing Jack before he can wipe it away with his hand. She was no match for the man's appeal, no matter how hard she ever tried. Jack always knew this.

Realizing his hand is still hanging in midair, the pirate brings it down to begin untying his robe from Sadie's body, enjoying the chance to be able to slip his own clothing off of her.

"You've got a knack for seducing a man, love," he says, nuzzling her weak spot, just beneath her ear. Sadie crumples in his hands, the robe falling to a puddle of red silk on the floor, forgotten. She watches as Jack places his empty glass on the floor as well, pulling the sheets over their bodies as he makes his way to her side again. Together they lay on the mattress, Jack fiddling with each of Sadie's slender fingers. There is an angelic quality to a woman who has given everything, and yet nothing at all, bestial as well as euphoric. Jack slips an arm under Sadie's head and his other over her waist, relishing the feel of her against him. No dresses, no belts, nothing but the skin they were born with. Sadie rests her hand against the man's heart, smiles, and closes her eyes.

"This is all," she whispers, and drifts to sleep.

- - -

The two ominous figures of Peter Codney and his cohort, Yasef, meander down the length of the gangplank towards the docks of Port Royal; each with a pistol, a cutlass, and their wits about him. The sun is high overhead, marking noon of that particularly balmy day. Peter tucks the pearl into a tiny leather pouch, cinching it closed and pocketing it. Yasef merely looks ahead, trying to distinguish the names of taverns of Port Royal. English not being his first language, he tends to rely heavily on the aid of his younger half.

"There," he says, pointing a finger at a tavern sandwiched between an antiques shop and a butchers meat market. The sign swinging on it reads 'Vacancy' and nothing else. Peter casts a glance at it, but makes no immediate move to scurry inside with his treasure and his fellow man.

"We wait," he says, walking past. Yasef for a moment finds himself confused, but realizes that if Peter, already well unkempt and receiving some distasteful glares, appears out of nowhere and immediately scurries into a shack of an inn, some hackles could be raised. After all, Port Royal was no Tortuga. If any suspicions arose due to the two of them, the Navy would be on their heels in moments.

Yasef follows the younger man through town, pretending to be interested in imports and trade items, when all that appeals to him is the thought of a nice mattress and a good toss with a lass. He knows of course that Peter's mind is on much more distant matters, most primarily being Sadie and where to find her.

"Yasef," comes the young man's harsh voice, "go find us a change of clothes."

Yasef stands in the middle of the dirt street for a moment, staring at Peter's back incredulously. Peter is often demanding, yes, but orders? When the younger man says nothing and continues walking, Yasef releases a deep breath and his shoulders drop in defeat. Without a word he turns away, walking towards the first boutique he sees.

Whatever dignity I have left, he muses bitterly, I'm going to spend on a harlot tonight.

- - -

Dansen rolls his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, glaring at the floor. The subject of his beloved Alessandra is a thin line between sorrow and hate, and he finds it difficult to describe the situation to her older brother, sitting no more than four feet away from him. Staunch must be the most fitting word for the man. He stands a few inches shorter than Dansen, but is twice as heavy in muscle. Dansen often likes to think him a bull – a rare white bull with a heady passion for the red flag: quickest to anger, hardest to defeat.

At that moment, Morgan feels no need for delays. With a dead sister and the navy at his heels, he wants nothing more than for Dansen to talk, and talk quickly and thoroughly.

"Drake, I've got no time for your musings."

Dansen takes a drag from his cigarette and nods.

"I'll start from the beginning." He taps the cigarette and ignores the ashes falling to the ground. "I intended to wed Alessandra, back in England. But I wanted to give her something better than a wedding ring, so I searched out a witch – one recommended me by acquaintances from a local tavern. I sought her out and found her, hidden in the forests in the hills. I never knew there were swamps in England…"

Morgan leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Continue."

Drake takes another drag.

"I asked her for something that would prove myself worthy to Alessandra, and she showed me numerous things – necklaces, brooches, rings, keys…all of them were worthless. Then she showed me something she said was reserved only for those desperate enough to have it. A pearl, the size of a grape," he made the figure with his hand, "with a core of citrine that can only be seen when held up to the sun."

"You were going to give it to Alessandra?"

"Yes." Dansen lowers his gaze and sighs, shaking his head. "The witch said I had to kill someone for her in order to obtain the citrine pearl. I did so. I killed the man who was looking for her, apparently on a revenge hunt for her. She never told me why he was. When I returned for the pendant, she warned me that it would take the life of any soulless woman, but I felt no reason to believe her."

"Alessandra-"

"Was a beautiful soul. The witch gave me the pendant and I went to Alessandra. I gave her it, and for the briefest of moments she seemed truly happy. That is, until…"

"She died."

Dansen nods, putting the cigarette out on the side of his chair. The room falls into silence for a moment, until Morgan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose in agitation.

"So you killed her."

"I did no such thing!" Dansen cries, jumping to his feet. "I loved her more than any man! It was the witch! I went back to find her and kill her for what she did, but when I went back to her hut in the swamps, she was gone. Her cat stole the pendant from me, and now I have no dire idea of where it could be."

"You lost the damned thing that killed my sister!" Morgan exclaims in distress. Dansen is quick to react, putting a hand on the man's shoulder.

"I will get it back, one way or another."

Morgan gives the other man an incredulous look, eyes narrowed.

"You had better do so, if you wish to save your own skin." Morgan leans back and rubs his temples. "Now. What is it you want of me?"

Dansen's eyes glimmer in cunning, realizing that the moment had come for him to twist the situation to his advantage.

"I want your assistance in exacting revenge against the witch. In return, I will pay you whatever sum you ask of me."

Morgan seems to mull over this in his head for a moment, when a loud voice erupts from downstairs.

"We don't board people like you!" Comes the livid voice of the bartender. Dansen gets from his seat and tells Morgan to stay where he is, sneaking over to the door and opening it. Through the crack, he listens to the heated conversation going on below him.

"Sir, he's with me. He means no harm to you or your…establishment," comes a younger voice, considerably less angry. Dansen leaves his room and walks over to the railing overlooking the empty foyer. Two men are before Bradley, the barkeep, who is in turn in a glaring contest with the darker skinned man.

"I don't board men like him."

"So I ask you for one night to hang your prejudice and allow us to stay here."

Dansen becomes quickly disinterested and goes to turn away, but the next words out of the youngest man's mouth catch him by surprise.

"We're in possession of something very precious, and we cannot allow it to fall into the wrong hands."

Dansen turns around to see Morgan staring at him, in surprise and suspicion. Had fate given them their chance, dumping it right in their laps? Dansen turns to listen again.

"One night," says Bradley, grudgingly. "That's all I'll allow. There's a room upstairs, number 13."

Dansen looks quickly at his own room number – number 12. He smiles wickedly and sneaks back inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

"What do you think?" Comes Morgan's curious voice from behind.

"I believe," comes the dangerous reply, "that our task just got much easier for the both of us."

- - -

Sadie awakes the next morning; loathe peeling her body from Jacks. But by the sound of rustling and scuffling outside their door, Harper was already awake and ready for her. Sadie slips out of bed and puts her Captain's robe on once again, goes to the door and opens it. Harper looks up at her from below, a broad grin on her early-morning face.

"Good morning, mama!" She says, holding her hands up. Sadie beams, albeit tiredly, and takes her daughter into her arms.

"Good morning, Harper. Did you sleep well?"

At this question Harper's hand pauses in mussing her mother's hair. Sadie looks down at her daughter, a fine eyebrow raised. Harper stumbles over her words for a moment before sighing.

"I had a bad dream."

"Oh?" Sadie replies, walking down the stairs towards the kitchen. Jack would appear when he smelled the food in a quarter of an hour. "What of?"

"There were a bunch of scary men in a room, and they were all talking about bad things."

Sadie's eyes flicker briefly.

"Bad things?"

Harper nods, snuggling closer into her mother's embrace. "They said 'revenge' and 'kidnap' and…"

At Harper's pause, Sadie feels herself becoming worried. She makes Harper look at her.

"And what, Harper Rose?"

"I heard a name," she replies meekly. "I thought it was funny, because it's like a fish."

Sadie smiled, but was more concerned about what her daughter had heard.

"What was the name that you heard, love?"

Harper pauses, fidgeting with her tiny fingers, as though she is worried that if she says the name, her mama will get mad.

"Codney."

- - -

Well, there you have it! Enjoy, and PLEASE review!!

Rachel