The night was dark, the ship silent, and still, Luce could not drift to sleep.
She had been laying in bed since sunset, trying desperately to be rocked to sleep by the waves of the sea. However, her mind resisted all attempts at settling for the evening.
Just like her Mother.
Luce had been able to ignore the mysterious relationship between her Mother and the Black Pearl's crew before, with more important things on her mind, like survival, but in a moment of safety, with enough coins in her pocket to provide for her family for several years, Luce could finally direct her attention to the fact that Jack and his crew, somehow, knew her Mother.
Yes, Jack had whispered the words under his breath, just like her Mother, and Luce had been unable to concentrate on anything else since. Because, firstly, Jack knew her Mother to begin with, but also, knew her well enough to know her habits, knew enough about Angelica that he could see some of her in her daughter. Luce had never seen much of her Mother in her traits, but Jack had.
Angelica hadn't left the island in seventeen years, as long as Luce had been born. If Jack remembered her Mother from that long ago, she must have made quite an impression.
She slipped from the bed, pulling on her worn tunic, and slipping out into the chilled air. She staggered down the thin hall of the cabins, the rocking of the ship inhibited her ability to move in a straight line.
After a moment of hesitation, Luce gently knocked on the door, her ear next to the carved wood, listening for any stirs within.
"Jack?" she whispered, careful not to wake the rest of the crew.
"C'min," comes the slurred reply.
She slips into the room, gently letting the door click shut behind her, and turns to face her old Captain. He sits up against the wall, a bottle of rum in hand, while several lay at his feet. Despite his usual eccentric, happy-go-lucky drunkeness, Jack seems solemn, moody. He stares into the bottle's opening, a somber expression on his face.
It takes several moments for him to look up from the rum, but when he does, the very sight of her makes him sigh drearily, and take another long sip of the drink.
Luce, unsure of how to respond, approaches him cautiously, sliding down the wall to sit beside him, her bare feet stretched out before him in a fashion similar to Jack's current position.
Without meeting her gaze, Jack offers her the bottle, allowing her to take a swig. "Are you... alright, Jack?" she asked, grimacing at the overly sweet taste and the sting of alcohol. Never had she thought that she would be talking to Jack about... his feelings.
Jack shrugged, taking back the bottle and drinking deeply. "'Course I am, Love." Luce sighed loudly as Jack swayed on the spot, half leaning against her as he tried to down another mouthful of rum.
There was no point in being subtle; Jack was far too intoxicated to even pick up on anything but blunt.
"Jack, today wasn't the first time you mentioned my Mother. How did you know her? Angelica, I mean."
He sighs dramatically, his eyes filling with some unknown emotion. "Angelica," is all he says, swallowing the rest of the rum, before grabbing another and uncorking it with his teeth.
"What happened with my Mother, Jack? She's a good Mother, a good woman. How did she get dragged into a life of piracy? Was she... kidnapped... or something?"
The thought of her sweet Mother being kidnapped... or worse... by a group filthy pirates made Luce's skin crawl, and anger boil within her.
Jack laughed, though the sound was bitter. "No, Lass... She wasn' ki'napped," he slurred. "No' at all. 'Gelica was a pirate if there ever was one."
Her Mother? A pirate? Luce couldn't, no, refused, to believe such a thing. Her Mother hated pirates, her Mother was honest, kind, loving. Certainly not like Captain Jack Sparrow.
"My Mother," Luce nearly hisses, "Was not a pirate. My Mother was a good woman, is a good woman. She would never..." Luce could not, would not, believe such things. She couldn't be a pirate! Not her Mother, who had braided her hair when she was a child so lovingly. Not her Mother, who had worked herself into exhaustion so Luce could eat. Not her Mother, who had sacrificed everything she had for her daughter.
Jack chuckled, shaking his dreadlocked head. "'Course she was, Lass, where dya think she learn'ta fight li' that from? She showed ya how ta fight, din' she? Only a pirate, Lucy."
Luce threaded her fingers through her hair, caught between the relief of getting the information she craved and horror at the realization that perhaps it was not what she wanted to hear.
"So that's how she knows you, then?" Luce whispered, trying to steady her trembling voice. "She was a... a... pirate?"
Jack grinned cheekily, his golden teeth glinting in the moonlight. "Ah no, Lucy..." he droned, his tongue seemingly too big for his mouth as the words slurred together. "Me an' 'Gelica go way back." He puncuated his sentence with a drunken wink, and took another deep swig from the bottle.
Raising a single brow, Luce was almost afraid to question him after the previous information she received, though she's never been one to shy away from the truth. Jack sighed loudly, swaying on the spot, before someone ending up with his temple resting against the top of Lucia's head. He patted the top of her hand, gently, taking on a somber demeanor.
"How is 'Gelica?" he asks softly. "Is she... 'appy?"
Luce sighs, running her fingers through her long, dark hair. "Yes. I mean, I think so. It's hard for her; she works like mad, long hours, barely able to get by. She's lonely, I'm sure. But I think she's happy with the life she's led," she stumbles, and winds up leaning into Jack, as well. There's something comforting about the older man, about his presense.
With a depressed exhale, Jack shifts against her. "Poor 'Gelica."
Luce can't help but smile, and she gently pats his shoulder. "She'd kill you, you know, for ever pitying her."
"I know." This, at least, makes him smile, which, in turn, made the corners of Luce's mouth turn up as well. Unsure of what else to do, she gives him a friendly punch on the shoulder. Perhaps not the most appropriate move for the quiet situation, but it's the only thing she can think of to avoid getting too close to Captain Jack Sparrow.
It seems as though the man has taken an interest to you, and perhaps he'll be able to use you to his benefit, William had warned, and though Jack was her only way home, she knew enough to be cautious.
"I think you've had enough, Jack," Luce warned, prying the bottle from his hands.
"Sp'ose yer right, Lass," he drawled, leaning his head back against the wall of the cabin, arms flung casually over his knees. "If we're gonna get off this ship tomorrow, I'd better be sober."
Though he tries to rise, Luce grabs the tail of his worn jacket and tugs him back onto the floor, his eyes widening and grunting at the impact. "I beg your pardon? We're leaving tomorrow? Are we getting the Pearl out of the bottle?" she asks excitedly. "Are we going to go find the rest of the crew?"
Luce longed to discover the whereabouts of the only friend she'd ever had. Yes, he had been angry with her for lying to him, but she knew, or at least hoped, that his anger would fade fast. If Jack actually decided to go after them, she supposed.
But to her dismay, Jack shook his head. "Nah, we need ol' Gibbs fer that, don' we, Lass?"
At least they would have to find the lost crew.
"And just how are you planning on finding the crew?" Luce questioned. "I do believe you told me you didn't have a compass."
Once again, the man shook his head. "No, Lucy, I di'n' say I di'n' have a compass, I said i's no use ta me, savvy?"
"It's broken?"
He sighed loudly, as if Lucia was no more than a nuisance, and reached to a tie around his neck, and small box appeared from beneath his shirt, attached to a thick, dark cord. It was decorated quite intricately, and though Luce appreciated the exterior, she found her eyebrows rising when he snapped it open, revealing his compass within, it's delicate arrow pointed upwards.
"That's not North," Luce pointed out, watching the face of the compass over his shoulder. "Not if the sun set behind us."
Jack frowns, huffing theatrically. "'Course it's not, Lucy. It don'nt poin' North." Luce struggled to keep up with his eccentric behaviour, resisting the urge to question his odd statements or quotes, knowing whatever answer he gave would just lead her more astray from the conversation, or any point he may be trying to make. This time, however, she gave in.
"What use is a compass that doesn't point North?"
He sighed, rolled his eyes, and tossed the compass over to her, letting it fall into her hands. The arrow doesn't waver, just continues to point in the same direction as before, motionless. She tilted the compass back and forth, and was surprised to see it's direction didn't change, no matter how she moved it. It was pointing to something, but to what, she wasn't sure; it certainly wasn't North.
"So your using this to find the crew?" she asked, eyes fixated on the motionless face of the compass. Jack snorted loudly, shaking his head once more.
"S'not pointin' to the crew, won' be of much use to us." Though completely sloshed, Jack still had a deep, knowing look in his dark eyes.
"If it's not pointing to the crew, and it's not pointing North, where is it pointing?" she questioned, holding out the compass so that Jack could see it as well.
He smiled, not a toothy, mischievious smile she had grown accustomed to, not the dry, sarcastic grin he held to let her know she had irritated him. No, this smile was warm, soft, friendly, like he wasn't calculating a way to manipulate her.
"Lucy, what do you want most in this world?"
Was this a serious question? Was that what the compass pointed to? The notion was ridiculous, and yet...
Luce had seen stranger things than she ever thought imaginable while at the side of Jack Sparrow.
"Home, I suppose. My home. I miss the island."
He took the compass back, and Luce watched carefully, still surprised that the arrow didn't move from it's direction, even in Jack's hands.
"No ya don', Lass."
With a sigh, he takes the long cord and lifts it over his neck, tucking the compass back into his yellowing shirt. He pushes himself off of the floor, staggering with intoxication, before collapsing onto his bed, crossing his arms behind his head.
"Ye want yer Mum."
I hope I explained this well enough, with the compass and all.
Jack's compass doesn't move while being passed between Luce and Jack, it still points in the same direction, meaning what each of them want most in the world is the same thing.
If Luce wants Angelica...?
A little Jack/Luce father-daughter relationship, for anyone who's interested.
And Angelica will be making another appearence in this story, hopefully quite soon!