Chapter Ten: A Dream
Jack dreamed.
He was in a heavily wooded forest, and the shimmer of fireflies speckled the warm evening air. He was sitting with many other half-forgotten, half-known faces in the shadow of a vast willow tree. Its long, delicate tendrils just brushed the lush grass, creating a curtained haven.
A celebration of some sort seemed to be in progress. People danced. Shanties were taken up. Laughter echoed around the clearing. Drinks flowed freely. Music warbled merrily: fiddle, flute, and many others Jack could not name.
Lovers chased alluringly around the thick tree trunk. Women fawned over Jack, smiling sweetly. But one woman in particular snagged his interest. He chased her playfully around the tree, and her laughter, a warm, melodious sound, floated behind her.
He ran faster, his desire to catch her made all the more determined by her resistance. People laughed and cheered.
Finally he caught up with the maiden, and they collapsed upon the ground. Something in his memory gave a little tug.
Laughing and panting, he flipped her over to kiss her, and stopped.
Lying on the grass beneath him was Guinevere.
Jack woke with a jolt and sat bolt upright in his cabin. He looked around, taking a deep breath. No woods. No willow tree. And no Guinevere.
He lay back down, feeling inexplicably disappointed that he had woken.
Several hours later, still in the early hours of morning, Jack sat alone in his cabin, flipping aimlessly through weathered books with too much this and too little that. He had always had limited if any interest at all in literature. Some were too complicated, others too simple, too dull, too fanatical.
He had never understood why people were content just to read about adventures.
Why read stories, he had once told his father, when you can have your own adventures? Be your own hero, meet your own supporting characters? Real people, not just ink and paper.
On one occasion Elizabeth had tried to explain the beauties of imaginary tales.
"They can take you anywhere," she had said.
"Why'd I want to go anywhere in a book, when I can sail there in the flesh an' blood?" he had reasoned.
Without warning, someone tapped loudly on the cabin door.
"Aye?"
Guinevere opened the door, looking tired, not to mention a tad distraught. "Barbossa wanted me to tell you, we're on the right track. We've got a vague heading."
"Why so blue, luv?"
She shook her head, looking away. "Nothing. I'm fine."
"If you'd tell me-"
"I'm fine, Jack," she repeated determinedly.
"As you do, then."
She left, clicking the door behind her.
Guinevere went back to bed, willing herself to calm down. It was very early morning, and she had been woken in her sleep by distressed screams. She had leapt from bed to see who was in danger, only to realise the cries were in her head. Spirits.
Reluctantly, she had told Barbossa that they were on the right path to the Fountain. Many a sailor had died on the same route they were now taking. Guinevere could detect the road like a bird could a breadcrumb trail. Unfortunately.
The cries were so vivid, so real, and so…alive. How ironic.
Elizabeth stood on deck, Liam burbling happily in her arms. The wind was high this morning, a pleasant change to unbearable heat that seemed to be the norm here. It rushed up her nostrils, clean and fresh, and whipped at her face.
The entire crew was in good spirits, and as they went about there duty, they took up a shanty they all knew.
"Fifteen men on a dead man's chest-
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!
Drink and devil had done for the rest-
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!"
Despite the grim meaning behind the song, they sang it cheerily, and Elizabeth joined in quietly, singing in her son's ear.
Guinevere presently joined them, looking exhausted. She sat down nearby, content to just listen to the sailor's songs that the pirates chanted so naturally. She had never heard such music before, and was surprised at how wonderful it sounded, even minus any instrumental input.
She snapped out of her daze as Jack appeared seemingly out of nowhere and threw himself into a sitting position next to her. She looked over her shoulder and observed him. His face was more drawn than usual, his eyes appearing darker due to the shadows beneath them.
"You're tired. Long night?"
Jack sighed and passed a hand over his face. "You have no idea."
"Yes, actually, I do."
They lapsed into silence and Guinevere busied herself with fastening the collar buttons of her waistcoat, the better to keep out the wind.
Jack grinned. "You know they say about showing more skin, don't you?"
"If I did, you wouldn't be telling me. Go on."
"The more the merrier."
She slapped his chest in a combination of real and mock outrage. He chuckled, than looked away for a moment. The crew had stopped singing.
"You ever heard any nautical songs, luv?"
"How could I have? I've lived on land my entire life."
"You poor, deprived waif." Jack simpered sarcastically. He started to continue, but Guinevere wasn't listening.
She had jumped from her sitting position as if she had been burned, and was staring intently over the side into the choppy water.
She looked up after a moment, her blue-grey eyes brimming with uncertain anxiety. "I thought I saw something down there."
"Such as?" Jack joined her by the rail.
"It was…black. And glossy. I was there just for a moment; it weaved back into the water." She glanced over her shoulder. The crew were still going about their duties, perfectly at ease.
Jack shook his head, evidently relaxing. "The sun plays cruel tricks on eyes at sea, luv. It was either that else it was just an overlarge trout."
Guinevere opened her mouth to argue, but closed it once more with a shake of her head. There was no sense in arguing with him.
A/N: Apologies for the late update. I've barely had time to eat and sleep this week, let alone write a fanfic, so I scraped this together today in a single sitting. So if you don't like this chapter, there's my alibi. But hopefully it's not too bad. XD
Review replies:
YANIsweetness7: Here it is! :D
XShadowCatX: More Jack in this chapter! XD