Hi guys! I decided to switch the POV more often now that the action picked up. Here is a short piece from Jack.
Previously:
She twirled around, her breath suddenly caught in her throat and her pulse racing.
"Jack...!"
But her voice was too weak and he was already too far away to hear her.
Elizabeth looked over her shoulder again, facts rearranging itself in her head anew. She did not dare to touch the goods, just stared at the food and the green leaves, her eyes starting to burn again. She stood rooted on her spot, paralysed by the sinking feeling that she had just made a mistake.
JPOV
Jack Sparrow was at the one place he always sought when he needed to sooth his troubled soul: the helm of the Black Peal. He regretted not having a forethought of bringing rum with him, though.
He drummed his fingers on the spokes.
The morning had started quite pleasantly, with him waking up next to beautiful, naked woman, but at the moment, he was in a bloody awful mood.
The crew had greeted him with stupid grins, which he had ignored and which had started to irritate him something fiercely when he had reappeared on deck after his brief visit to the captain's quarters. Thankfully, a well-aimed scowl and a few barked orders had been enough for the pirates to get a clue. No-one had bothered him since then, but he could see them whispering among themselves and glancing his way when they thought he was not looking.
His cheek had been stinging for way too long. Longer than he was used to. And even when it stopped, it was still… Itching. Yes, itching. Like… he knew it no longer stung but he was still aware that it had been, just moments ago.
What are ye so ruffled about? he asked himself, swaying slightly on his heals. It's not like this hasn't happened to ye before.
Sure, getting slapped was nothing new, but for some reason, this time he had difficulty with shrugging it off. He hated to admit it, but it hurt something more than his face – something he told himself was his pride.
Usually, it was getting a girl out of his bed, not in that was the trickiest part of the deal. They dragged their feet on their way out, annoying him immensely with their attempts of slowing him down, when his ever-restless mind was already thousands miles away, plotting several new ventures at once. It had caught him completely off guard, first, that he had found that he had not minded at all her still sleeping next to him, snuggled into his side, when normally he would just disentangle himself and go on his merry way, secondly, that it was only by chance that he had even managed to catch her before she had slipped away. Not that he had never got an earful and a smack from a maiden with second thoughts in the morning, but they were most definitely there to deliver it. Elizabeth's composed disappearing act had just not been something he had been prepared for, especially when he had half-hoped to crawl back into that bed at the time. He was not sure how to proceed. It felt odd.
He gripped the spokes tighter and – as if to add to his worries – he felt a burning sensation on the inside of his right hand. He turned it apprehensively to discover that the black spot was back, making his stomach turn.
"Brilliant," he muttered and then cursed.
His time was running out.
He opened the compass to check the course only to snap it shut angrily seconds later. That problem was supposed to be solved by then. He got what he wanted, did he not? It was a good thing that he had charted the course the minute he got the heading and he knew what island they were heading toward, but he would still need to consult the compass once they reached it, and he could not help but wonder what he would do then.
He was not done, plain and simple. With the world, with life, with her.
He wanted her again… still. Bugger. This was not supposed to happen to him.
He grimaced.
It would be best to leave it at that. Rationally, he should be relieved. The timing was horrible. Besides, commitments were pesky business. Bloody inconvenient. A woman on board… his woman... was a… complication. This way, perhaps they could just pretend it had never happened, which would be the easiest way out for both of them. It would help him avoid unpleasant occurrences, like possible duels with certain William Turner. Yet, Jack's relationship with reason was a twisted one. It wasn't that he did not understand the rules, he was not trying to quite break them, either. Just… bend a little.
His train of thoughts was interrupted by Elizabeth emerging from below deck. She was dressed in her sailor's clothes again and looking around, as if searching for something. He wondered if her intention was finding him and then he got distracted by the sight of Pintel and Ragetti elbowing each other while glancing at her and chuckling idiotically. He frowned.
"Land ho!" a voice from above interrupted his thoughts.
"Finally," he said relieved. They were cutting it close. Still, there was no time to lose. "Master Gibbs!" he called, itching for action. "Take the helm."
He let go of the helm not waiting for his first mate who scrambled to fill the post in time. Jack stepped down and went straight to his moody bride – who was apparently in the middle of a conversation of no other than James Norrington.
"... better than this, Elizabeth," he caught the tail of the exchange and did not like it one bit, so without thinking, he simply stepped between the duo.
Neither did he like the fact that the man's eyes immediately landed on Jack's still slightly warm – and probably reddened – left cheek. He saw Elizabeth's glance follow ex-commodor's stare and then pale visibly.
"Mr. Norrington!" Jack barked, annoyed. "Ye're coming with us. And since you seem to be quite skilled at digging yerself a hole, grab a shovel. Ye're going to need it. 'Lizbeth..." he turned to Elizabeth.
"Jack, I..." she started, but it was not a place and definitely not a time for that, so he simply raised his finger to cut her off:
"Ye're coming too," he said before she could get anything else out and he marched away shouting orders for getting the longboat ready.
If he was being short with her, he thought he was excused, both by her earlier behaviour and his hurry to get them both on dry land. He did not know how long it would take the Kraken to find him, but did not wish to take any unnecessary risks.
He recruited the two morons he would rather keep an eye on for rowing and got into the boat himself, but not before a quick run to his cabin to get the jar of dirt. As peculiar as the gift seemed, he knew better than to dismiss Tia's help.
Elizabeth eyed the jar uncertainly, but kept quiet when she settled on the bench near him. He kept his face purposely impassive, not wanting to give anything away, but he was much more anxious than he would want his crew to believe.
He felt a light touch on his hand and looked down to find Elizabeth's fingers grazing the edge of the fabric he had hastily tied back around the black spot.
"What happened to your hand?" she asked softly.
He instinctively jerked his hand back, not willing to reveal the grim mark to her, but the look of disappointment on her face did not escape his notice.
"Nothing," he lied quickly.
"Jack..." Elizabeth whispered.
She sounded apologetic and though he was not sure what she was sorry about – the slap, the argument, an empty promise or rushed accusations, today's morning or last night – her touch, her voice, concerned and almost shy, were enough to stir the restless contents of his heart and the hope flicker back dangerously.
Maybe he got it wrong? Maybe she had simply got scared and he should have just let her cool off instead of letting his wounded ego get the better of him and snapping at her?
He cringed inwardly when he recalled his earlier outburst. Well, that certainly had not helped his cause.
He opened his mouth to answer her when a soft snicker from Norrington's direction caught his attention. Elizabeth immediately looked away embarrassed and Jack was left with nothing to do but to glare at the former commodore and curse him internally. The interruption reminded him that their conversation was not private, though, so he did not pursue the matter.
He shot Elizabeth a stealthy, sidelong glance and studied her from under his lashes. She looked sad, her internal light that had been shining so brightly only a day ago seemingly dulled. He did not like seeing her like that. Yet, she did not look angry anymore, and there was a selfish part of him that acknowledged it to be a good sign for him.
They spent the rest of the short trip to the shore in silence interrupted only by the sounds of water and soon, they were jumping out of the boat and onto the white beach.
"Let's find this chest, shall we?" Jack said handing Elizabeth the compass.
She looked at it as if it was a poisonous spider. Only then he realised the conundrum he was facing himself: he could not decide where he wanted it to point to for her.
To answer the concerns some of you had regarding last chapter: yes, of course it's still a Sparrabeth story.
Also, I thought it was awfully convinient that it was Norrington with Jack and Elizabeth on that longboat on the quest for digging up the heart, so I thought I'd give Jack an excuse to bring him along.
