Chapter 9: I Spy

Blue eyes, as dark as the ocean at night and just as forbidding, consumed Elizabeth from all sides. She was drowning, limbs gone dead in dark water holding her powerless, immobile, unable to kick for the surface. She could not even tell which way was up, all was a menacing blue, obscuring the location of that saving gulp of air. You cannot run from me echoed a voice within her mind. Because you are already mine.

No no no she chanted, shaking her head, finding it was all she could do. But there, there in the distance was a sparkle of light, far away. She fought to win her limbs back, fought to keep the life that was hers. As she began to resist against the water, she found her probing hands could push against it, propel her forward. Closer, the sparkle came closer, penetrating the dark oppressive depths.

Elizabeth awoke with a gasp, disoriented. Sunlight, bright and inviting, poured in through the window. The mattress beneath her was not exactly soft, but not uncomfortable.

Mattress?

Window?

Elizabeth sat up to look around, and immediately recognized her surroundings; the great cabin of the Black Pearl. How did she get there? She was still dressed in her shirt and pants, her boots rested on the floor at the foot of the bed.

Jack's bed.

The events of the wee hours of the morn came back to her in a rush. So why wasn't she awakening to the morning stirrings of the crew on deck, still chained to the mast like a mutineer? The answer was somewhat obvious: she would have had to been unlocked and carried in while still asleep.

Only one man aboard had the key.

The sound of the door being opened signaled Elizabeth to lie back down, feigning sleep. She wasn't ready to face Jack quite yet, after the night they'd had. She watched clandestinely through the curtain of her hair as the captain entered the room, rifling through a chest at the opposite side.

What was he looking for? A map? A bottle of rum?

She found herself admiring his physique, his wiry torso, long legs, and as he bent over, that undeniably perfect round rear. Such charms weren't fair for a pirate to possess; they're supposed to be grotty and loathsome and unappealing. Well, Jack never was good at following rules. She enjoyed being able to observe him in secret, taking in the way he moved when he thought no one else was watching.

After rifling a bit longer, Jack closed the chest, stood up straight, and fingered his chin. Adjusted a ring, brushed back a dreadlock, checked to make sure a favorite bead was still in place. He fidgeted silently, and Elizabeth fought not to laugh, delighted by her private show.

He made a face at the décor of the room, still velvet a la Barbossa. "Damn you and your blasted velvet, Hector," he muttered under his breath, putting his hands on his hips, then crossing his arms, and drumming fingers on his biceps with long bejeweled fingers. Jack Sparrow did not ever seem to sit completely at rest. That is, until he looked over at Elizabeth, lying on his bed. As his dark eyes turned to her he went entirely still. Certain she'd been spotted for a spy, Elizabeth hurriedly closed her eyes, hoping to appear asleep.

She heard his footsteps as Jack crossed the floor, boot heels clicking softly and slowly, as though he were walking with care not to wake her. "I've had a thought or two about seeing you there in the morning' light before, luv, " he murmured quietly. He did not make a sound, but she felt the slight shift of the mattress as he took a seat beside her. "Never really thought I'd live to see it, though."

Lightly, ever so lightly, he stroked her hair, and the tickling sensation sent a thrill through her limbs. "How many times are we going to bugger our chances, hmm? How will we ruin it this time?"

Elizabeth's heart thundered in her chest, she was sure Jack could hear it. A part of her wanted to bolt upright in bed, to pull him to her. But a part of her wouldn't allow her to move: feeling Jack's nimble fingers caressing her hair ever so lightly, the moment was simply too sweet to shatter.

With a final sweep of fingers down her jaw line, Jack stood. "Sweet dreams, dearie. Sorry 'bout the whole shacklin' ye to the main mast business. It's an apology you'll never hear while you're awake."

And with that he walked out of the cabin, not having found whatever he came in to find.

Or maybe, just maybe, Elizabeth dared think he had.