A/N: I'm glad for so much feedback on my new direction. I hope you will be as continuously pleased with this development as I am.
Chapter Twelve: Only a Phase
Poor Will stood at the top of the stairs when a very aggravated and fuming Captain made his way to the deck.
"Jack," Will began, unsure of how to proceed. "We're approaching a storm."
"All hands man their stations," Jack waved off as he roughly passed Will and broke through to the deck. The large doors made a loud thwack as they ungraciously hit the side of the ship.
"Jack, it would be wise to take a different course of action," Will said calmly following Jack. But Jack paid no mind as he raced his way up to the helm and unbuckled his spyglass from his belt. He lifted it to his eye and took a long hard look on the horizon. "Jack," Will repeated.
"Listen," Jack sighed in frustration, "yeh want to save yer Victoria, do yeh?"
"Her name is Elizabeth," Will corrected.
"Elizabeth, my mistake," Jack stated indifferently as though it were more of a formality than an actual concern. "Yeh want to save yer Elizabeth, then?"
"Yes," Will plainly stated.
"Then the only way we're gonna get to her in time is to sail right through this storm, savvy?" Jack asked rushing through his statement with the most animated of hand movements. His frustration was still present, but it seemed the more gestures and snarls he acted, the less he recognized his own anger.
"Jack, this is no time to be rash," Will said, "if we are killed in this storm we may not be able to save Elizabeth at all!"
"Well what would yeh like me to do, Master Turner?" Jack's arms flailed wildly and he swiveled his position to face Will completely. "Why is she even worth goin' after? Is she worth some reward, perhaps, or maybe yeh plan to marry her, in either case I don't think she's worth it!"
"Of course she is!" Cried Will. "She is the only reason you are standing here as a free man right now!"
"Of course, yeh are right in that respect, but how long after we rescue her will she be getting' on yer last nerve, eh?" Jack began to speak very seriously, "when will she begin makin' yeh do things yeh don't wanna do, or makin' yeh feel guilty?"
"I don't know what you are talking about," Will stated loyally. "Elizabeth would never do that."
"Trust me Young William, all women do that," Jack said while giving Will a clap on the back and turning back to the setting sun.
William stood there silently, contemplating the truth behind Jack's words. He did not know much about women. The only woman he had ever loved had been, and still is, Elizabeth, yet he could not muster the courage to tell her how he truly felt. Although from their brief encounters, he had always been lead to believe that she was an honest sort of person, character of the highest quality. She would never intentionally hurt someone. He shook his head and cleared his thoughts. He could not make heads or tails of Jack's argument unless Jack was referring to someone else. Will was permanently deterred from his thought by Jack's shouting and the crew running to their stations across the deck. Will only stared at Jack a few moments before finding a place to be of use. It would be a matter of minutes before they landed in the storm and maybe hours before they emerged, if they emerged at all.
Anne sat on her cot below deck. She noticed that the waves had begun to crash harder against the side of the boat. She hadn't felt sick since Jack left, but if he should return any time soon, with a combination of the rocky waves she felt she might perish.
She began to smooth out the wrinkles in her dress; it had been quite worn out since her abduction to the ship. She hardly had time to fasten it, let alone make sure it didn't drag on the ground as she was half-dragged to the ship. Now that she thought about it, she wondered if Sylvie and Alfie were wondering where she was. Perhaps they didn't even know she was missing, or perhaps they had known that she wouldn't be staying all along. She would be devastated if they had any part of this. Once again she felt her stomach toss over and she lay back down on the bed and curled into the smallest ball she could muster.
"What do you want from me?" She cried to no one in particular. However, right as she uttered those words, a sudden jerk in the ship had her sitting up immediately. She had not been upon deck for an hour or so now, so she felt as though she were left in the dark about the crew's on-goings. But one thing that was for certain: a sudden jerk on a ship, in any account, was by no means a good thing.
She heard shouting from above deck that traveled through the wood. She stood and crept her way to the door, listening for any sound of gunfire or clanging metal. Upon hearing no sounds of that sort, she crept further along the creaking floorboards and towards the stairs. Once again, a quick jolt had pulled Anne to her knees at the first step and she clung to the railing for support. She could feel the waves thrashing about the ship, now –curious that she had not felt them sooner – and small puddles of water were leaking their way down the stairs. Whilst still latched to the secure railing, she climbed her way up the stairs and to the door to the deck. She saw water oozing through the cracks of the door as though the entire boat had been submerged.
The thrashes had become closer together now and Anne would experience one every few moments, barely enough time to catch her breath. She was terrified and did not actually want to open the door, but curiosity got the better of her and she reached for the latch. As soon as she was about to open the door, it opened by itself. A large gust of wind and rain sprayed into her face as another unexpected force grabbed her arm and dragged her down the stairs. She turned back to the door and saw nothing except sharp flashes of light illuminating horizontal rain. Powerful wind pried at the floorboards and between the cracks of doors while the roar of thunder was deafening.
She had never enjoyed storms much, especially when the last two she had experienced had left her shipwrecked. With this in mind, she began to panic. Never the one to be suspicious, she could not control her worry that this storm was a bad omen. She rushed to greet the surface of the deck to abandon ship or do anything that might seem the least bit productive. However, this constant force that was dragging her down the stairs was not one to be intervened with. She turned towards her outstretched arm and realized a very wet and disgruntled Jack was her assaulter. Just as predicted another wave of nausea hit her and the sudden rocks of the waves and howling wind did nothing to ease her suffering. In a moment of desperate protest she began the halt her steps and scratch at his hand to let her go. He ignored her completely and continued to drag her. Her eyes began to water as her panic only increased and she began to claw harder at his iron knuckles, doing anything she needed to escape his grasp. She tried firmly planting her feet into the ground and even running in the opposite direction, but this action combined with a powerful jerk of the ship only landed the two of them against a very hard wall. Anne had no time to think of her current situation, any proximity or foolish ponderings as she continued to scratch, kick and tear at Jack.
"Stop doin' that!" He yelled furiously. His voice was deep and powerful, husky and, for once, completely serious. She immediately stopped. Jack became instantly confused, he had not suspected this to work. Instead of merging as deep as she could with the wall, she began to cry. Jack rolled his eyes, he had not intended to upset her, only to stop her vicious assault on his hand. "Listen, Love, I didn't mean to yell so loudly."
"It's not that Jack," Anne looked up with red watery eyes and flushed cheeks. "I am terrified, Jack, absolutely terrified!" Jack stared at her a moment or two before awkwardly helping her into a hug. It was by no means affectionate, he seemed confused by her closeness and acceptance in his arms.
"The last two times I have experienced storms on a ship, I have been washed away, Jack," she muffled into his chest. He took to combing through her hair, although his ringed fingers continuously got knotted in her dark strands and Jack forfeited the action seeing as it was in no way as comforting as he might have hoped.
"Yeh think yer gonna end up at the bottom of the ocean?" Jack asked hesitantly.
"Yes, Jack, is there any other possible outcome?" Anne said looking up at him. She was a mess. Her hair had become frizzy and parts were stuck to her face from her wet tears, her entire face had become flushed and her eyes were so glassy that Jack thought he could not even see past their reflections. He had never seen her this uncollected before, it was certainly a new side to her.
"Well, I'm the best Pirate Captain in all the Caribbean, savvy," he said with great pride. "My only real passion is the sea, and there is no way she'll be mistreatin' me after all I've given her, eh?" Jack smiled down at her; all his previous aggravations forgotten.
"I suppose," she was hesitant.
"Come on, let's go to yer room," Jack said softly.
"If you think that you can take advantage of my current situation, Mr. Sparrow, you are gravely mistaken," she said in a light-hearted manner.
"I wouldn't dream of it, Love," he watched her slide out from between him and the wall and retreat to her room before closing the door. He had never been good at comforting people before, nor did he choose to try. She seemed so easy to please, he noted, though he could not be sure why. He did not have much time to dwell on the manner, rather, he took several quick steps to the stairs and marched on up towards the deck to brave out the storm.
Anne heard him marching up the stairs from the other side of the door, she slowly slid down the wood into a sitting position and she rocked herself into a cry. She had never been so confused. No matter how angry she had ever been with Jack after he left her in Tortuga, his current actions were contradicting everything he had ever given her reason to doubt him about. He seemed kind, although he hid it well, and tolerable on many levels, and even somewhat affectionate. She could not stay mad at him, though she tried very hard. If he had made some kind of selfish advance to her, she would easily become frustrated and turn away, yet some part of her urged her not to resist so quickly and this troubled her endlessly. He was not the sort of man you would give your heart to, she knew this, yet she found herself under his charm time and time again. She could not change who he was, which made him dangerous, especially for a woman of her repute. However, did she not throw away any social standing she might have had when she turned to piracy in hopes to reclaim some previous part of her? Even with this in mind, she did not want to end up some notch on his belt or anything of the sort, and she was sure this was a passing phase.
Her cries eventually turned to whimpers, and her whimpers to the deep breathing of one who sleeps. Her eyes were swollen and her cheeks the colour of radishes. Her hair was frizzy and sticky and her dress was wrinkled and damp. In all of her glory she rested in the corner between the door and her bed completely asleep and dreaming the first sweet dream she had in awhile. She dreamt of endless forests and placid ponds and winding streams and absolutely no invention of man. She lay in the beds of flowers in one of her old thin dresses from her home. It was in no way ornate or beautiful; it was perfect. There were no corsets or laces or heeled shoes or flowery hats, only one layer of loose fabric between her and the earth. There was no conflict between swashbucklers or socialites, only complete and utter peace. She knew that she often wished to go home, back to where she belonged and escape all of these new horrors she had been presented with, but she could not. She had left there for a reason and even at her worst, she was better off here… with Jack.
Jack stood upon the deck with the dark storm behind him, he stared out onto a calming sea .Will was at his side blabbering on about something rather, which Jack made no efforts to feign interest, and began calling up Anamaria to take his place at the helm.
"It's all so fascinating," he said indifferently to Will who, in turn, responded with a raised eyebrow and unimpressed expression.
Once Anamaria had situated herself at the helm, Jack cautiously handed her the compass. She took it between her fingers and had expected him to let go, but upon his lack of release, she raised an annoyed eyebrow at his worried expression. They held eye contact for a moment or two in this awkward interaction before Jack released the compass, pointed an accusatory finger at her and then slowly backed away and headed under deck.
That had been a tough storm, but Jack pulled through, he always did (in some way or another). He stalked down the creaky steps he had become all too familiar with over the last course of the day. In morning they would reach the Isle de Muerta and his final plan would be put into place. Jack felt relieved to be so close to accomplishing something, yet it seemed so painful that something in such a small proximity was so far out of reach. With this thought in mind, he arrived at the door of his most recent fascination. He contemplated knocking, but what a fortunate surprise it would be if he caught her in a compromising position.
Jack listened at the door for a minute but heard nothing. He was about to open it when he heard the footsteps of someone incredibly annoying stalking down the steps from above deck. Jack let out an obvious sigh and removed his hand from the door.
"Visiting her again?" Will asked incredulously.
"No, I leant her somethin'," Jack lied, "I've come to get it back." He remained facing the door but tossed a gaze over his shoulder at a disbelieving Will.
"I have known Miss Anne ever since she has arrived at Port Royal," Will began, "she has taken several years to arrive where she is, Jack, do not think that you can change her back; she's better off." Will waited for Jack's response, but it never came. He turned and walked back up the stairs.
"Whelp," Jack whispered under his breath. Again, he reached to open the door but another set of feet could be heard tromping down the stairs.
"Jack," Gibbs said a little too eagerly, "yeh wouldn't know where an honest sailor could find a spot of rum, do yeh?" He licked his lips in anticipation.
"Where is it always kept?" Jack said while rolling his eyes. He had not moved from his position facing the door.
"Right yeh are," Gibbs continued lower into the ship leaving Jack still staring at the door.
Once again, Jack raised his hand to the door. He waited a few moments for good measure, and finally heard nothing but the aftermath of the storm taking her effect on the sides of the ship. He pushed the door open, but it would not open very far. He heard a soft thud and looked down to see the door in contact with a shivering girl; Anne.
Jack slowly squeezed through the door frame and crouched beside her. She was coiled into the corner of the room breathing evenly and softly as though she were completely at peace. Jack took a moment to take credit for some of her current happiness. He began to slide one arm under her neck and around her shoulders, and the other under her knees, but he quickly realized how difficult a task this was. Since she was so close to the corner, he could scarcely fit an arm in the right place without putting his centre of gravity at a slight disadvantage. He tried more persistently and even contemplated giving up the task altogether, yet he chose to persevere.
He finally had her scooped into his arms until he realized that when lifting her he would need a different sort of balance than previously predicted. Jack silently cursed as he fell backwards with Anne crashing onto his chest and neck, waking in the process.
"Jack!" she cried. "What on earth are you doing?" She scrambled off the floor and back to her original corner.
"No, no," Jack scolded in frustration, "I've only just got yeh out of there!"
"Answer my question, Jack," she said suspiciously.
"Yeh looked uncomfortable lyin' on the ground," Jack said slowly as though some kind of lie would fabricate as he spoke – which it didn't – and so Jack was stuck telling the awkward truth.
"Why Jack, I'm surprised you are so compassionate," Anne said teasingly. Jack stood there for a moment listening to her fading accent before deciding on a more characterized answer.
"Well, what kind of gentleman would I be if I seduced yeh while yeh were lyin' on the ground?" Jack began to smirk and slowly walk towards Anne – whose confused expression did nothing to deter him. "I would be mighty uncomfortable sittin' on the hard floor tryin' to get yeh to like me."
"Yes," Anne said indifferently, "an impossible task. Why, I imagine, you would be there all day." Jack's frown dropped as he heard the words leave her lips. He moved suspiciously close to her as he moved towards the door. Their shoulders were brushing with each breath either of them took. Jack turned his lips towards her ear and took a lock of her hair between two dirty fingers and twirled it a bit as he took a moment into consideration.
"Don't underestimate me," he said accusingly before dragging his hand from her hair to her collar bone to her shoulder to the door as he walked away.
Anne felt a very unwelcome chill run down her spine. Yes, it must only be a phase.
A/N: Hurrah! Nearly half way there! If you should so choose, check out my other story I've recently started: A Taste for Deception. Hopefully the posting of the new story will not deter this story's progress (I make sure to write ahead before my first post so I have at least a couple chapters done just in case). Nothing annoys me more than when authors decide to begin a new story, and as a result, neglect their old one. Thus, I have vowed to myself to make this story my priority.
