Paul worked relentlessly as gently cleaning each wound. He reset her leg and bound it between two slim boards to help it set. Deeper gashes were stitched carefully closed. Unlike the last time he had stitched up the poor girl, she remained unconcious through his minstrations. Jack had held her hand in his, never looking away from her, not even for a second through the whole thing. Only when I unwrapped her hastily done bindings, revealing the gaping hole in her side, did he release her hand and walk away. My attention focused on the tedious task of removing the splinters from the wound, I heard him heaving out the window of his bedchamber. Truth be told, I wanted to join him. Many a wound I had seen in my day, but never had I been able to see straight through the body of a living person. Shivers of wood stuck out like spines inside the wound, the edges jagged and torn, flaps of skin torn back from the edges. She stirred slightly as I pulled a particularly large shard of wood from the center of the wound, but didn't wake. I was in awe of this woman. A couple of men had come forward to the cabin, a bloodied two foot pointed piece of wood with them. They had seen her, backed into a corner, pulling the stake from her side and using her skirt to bind the wound before continuing out on deck and helping the rest of the had threatened to have the men flogged for not stopping her, but Gibbs calmed him, saying she wouldn't have listened anyway. We all knew of Miss Sadie's hard-headedness.
Jack came back into the room as I was pouring rum into the wound to cleanse it. His face was pale, and his usual swagger gone.
"She hasn't woken up," I answered his silent question. "I've cleansed the wound the best I can. Now we can only wait and pray theres no infection."
He simply nodded as he watched me stitch up each side of the wound. I placed heavy dressing over the stitches and wrapped her now bare chest to hold the dressing and her damaged ribs in place. Raghetti entered the room, a heated bowl of water and fresh rags in his hands.
"I though' Miss Sadie would like ta be cleaned up," he stuttered, setting the bowl on the chair near the desk. I nodded and offered him a weak smile of thanks. Poor lad had found the girl, bloodied and mangled. I knew that the whole crew cared for her, but Raghetti was quite taken with her. She treated him kindly, patiently helping him work on his stutter and awkwardness. Each crew member could tell a tale of her kindness being personally bestowed upon them. The woman was an angel. I wouldn't be surprised if I opened the cabin door only to see the whole lot of them waiting outside the door for news. I only wished I had good news to share with them.
I stood, having done the best I could for her and began wiping my hands clean of blood. I didn't say anything to Jack, doubt he would have heard my anyhow, as I left the cabin, Raghetti following behind me wordlessly. We had some praying to do.
XXXXXX
I gently lifted the limp body of my beloved from the blood drenched table and carried her to my bed. She didn't stir or wake, her skin cold to the touch as if she were dead. It was only the faint rise and fall of her chest that told me she was still alive, and I watched it as if it were the only hope I had left in the world. Perhaps it was, for if I lost her, surely the world would end. Leaving her side for but a moment, worrying that rise and fall would stop in my absence, I retrieved the bowl of water and brought it to the bed. I rung a rag out, the warm water spashing back into the bowl and lifted the leg that didn't hold the brace. Slowly, painstakingly, I washed each leg, careful not to disturb the binding of her broken bone. I moved up her body, wiping blood and grime from her stomach and then her shoulders and arms. Special attention was paid to remvoing the smears on her face and neck. Throughout my minstraitions I had hoped she would awake, tell me herself why I should not have the two men who had seen her, but not stopped her, keelhauled. The only reason I hadn't was because I know she would be appauled by the idea before taking the fault as her own. Stubborn woman. I should lock you in this cabin and never let you out.
I barely held myself together as the men regailed their tail. "She pulled da thing right from 'er side, she did." I doubted my ability to have done the same thing, had it of been me. My stomach could no longer handle it as the doctor removed her makeshift bandages, the gaping whole in her side oozing blood littered with slivers of wood and deck debris. I had run like a ninny, emptying the contents of my stomach out the back of the ship. Pride flooded my heart as I thought of her, bleeding and woozey, racing around deck as if nothing had happened, making it her duty to help protect the ship and crew from the dangers of the storm. She could have given up, collapsed and let the men work around her, Lord knows thats what most of the crew would have done. Instead she struggled through the pain she must have felt, held fast, and assisted wherever she was needed. I should have known something was wrong whenever I glimpsed her from the wheel. How could I not of noticed all the blood, an uneven step?
For two days she slept, and for two agonizing days I dillegantly watched the weak and uneven breaths raise and lower her chest. She remained pale as a ghost, like her soul had already been taken to the world beyond while her body remained behind, stubborn. Her skin heated to the touch, taking on the sheen of fever. The doctor checked her wounds often, cutting and cleaning any outward signs of infection. But the war within her raged, her fever climbing higher. Still she did not wake.
"I can cut and hack at the infection on the outside, but without medicine-" the doctor had said after cutting away an infected piece of flesh from her side the first day.
"Then we'll get her medicine!" I shouted, throwing open my cabin door. "Master Gibbs! Make towards the closest port!"
"Aye Cap'n, but the closest port be days from 'ere," he eyed me wearily.
"He's right, Captain," the doctor said over my shoulder.
"This is the fastest ship on the sea!" I shouted, my head spinning between the two men. They both watched me, worried that I'd do something insane and regretable.
"She won't make it to port Captain," the doctor whispered, shame dominating his features.
His words hit me in the gut like a ton of bricks. Not make it to port? How could she not make it?
"What do ye suppose we do then?" I asked in a quiet voice, my eyes on my boots. Silence followed my words, but I dared not look up, worried they would say that there was nothing we could do.
"I've heard rumors of an island near here," the doctor began. "The natives helped poor lost sailors who had been hit with scurvy."
I allowed the semblence of hope to bubble in my core and I faced the doctor and my first mate again. "Then make to that island. Fast. As fast as the Pearl can carry us." Sure that my orders would be followed hastily, I went back to Sadie's side.
"We'll get through this, luv, I promise," I whispered, caressing her flaming cheek.
Her fever raged through the night, her skin getting impossibly hotter and hotter. The sheets were drenched in the sweat of her illness, and I moved her gently so they could be changed. At sunrise, the doctor came in to clean her wounds and check her condition. He didn't say a word as he worked, but I could tell by his pinched expression that her predicament was worsening. Her chest rose in shuttering breaths, her heartbeat a weak flutter beneath my probing fingertips. He left the room without a word.
Members of the crew came in and out, wanting to wish their prayers on her, see how she was fairing, offer condolences. Gibbs said we were making good headway to the island, but he was nervous the natives wouldn't be as welcoming as described. But we had to try. Anything to bring Sadie back. By the evening, I had told the crew no one could enter, save Gibbs and the doctor, on pain of death. I was tired of the endless sorrow in their eyes, I could hardly stand my own, much less theirs. As night fell outside, I knelt to the floor beside her bed, resting my cheek on her hand clasped in mine where it sat on the bed. I closed my eyes, praying to the Goddess Calypso. Don't let her be taken, I begged. I did not want to see that whelp, William Turner, who I had made Captain of the Flying Dutchman sail away with her, ferrying her soul to the underworld. My mind drifted to lost times and perilous adventures, things I wished to share with Sadie. An eternity of sailing. You and I. I and you. Us.
"Jack," came the raspy whisper that startled me from my revelry.
"Sadie-luv?" I asked in barely a whisper, afraid I had imagined her voice. I watched her face and her eyes slowly fluttered open. A weak smile played at the corner of her lips when she saw me.
"Don't look so worried, it ages you," her whispery voice the sweetest sound I had ever heard.
"Worrying 'bout ye ages me, luv," I tried to return her smile, but my face wouldn't cooperate.
"I'm sorry Jack," she lowered her eyes shamefully and my heartbroke. Why was she apologizing to me?
"'tis nothin', luv," I tried to reassure her. I was rewarded with another soft smile.
"I should have listened to you."
"Damn right ye should have, but then ye wouldn't be ye," I said, my thumb caressing the back of her hand that I held. "I was told ye pulled the thing straight from yer own side. Never heard of a man capable of such strength."
Her skin pinked with a slight blush, the sight causing hope so soar into my heart. "I only did what needed to be done.
I could almost laugh, I knew she would say something like that. "I'd expect nothing less of ye."
She coughed, wincing at the pain in her ribs. A small spittle of blood escaped from her lips, dotting the white of the sheet. "How sick am I?" she asked, her voice raspy and rough.
I looked down at the bed, not wanting to meet her eyes. "The doctor says ye have infection," I paused, my adam's apple bobbling. "'e said ye won't make it to port." She laid silent, the loudest silence of my life. No man should ever have to admit to their love that they are dying, and you can do nothing to save them. Then I remembered the island. "We've made course to an island. Natives there may be able to heal ye." I looked at her face, her eyes were closed again. "Sadie!" I asked in a worried voice.
"The Fountain, Jack. You must find it savvy?" her eyes opened, heavy lidded, her breathing labored.
"After ye get better, we will both find the Fountain," I reassured her, running my hand over her forehead, smoothing back her hair. "Have I ever told ye I love when ye talk like a pirate?" I attempted a smile knowing it would soothe her.
she chuckled and winced with the movement. "You can find it without me you know. Maybe have a better time at it, without me trying to get killed at every turn."
"I cannot find it without ye, Sadie-luv," I whispered.
"You're Captain Jack Sparrow. You can do anything," she whispered hoarsly, her eyes closing again. "I'm tired Jack." Within moments she was asleep, her shallow breathing labored and rough, but still there.
"Rest, luv. Fore I need ye. Ye'll get better. I swear it."
Author's note: I hope you enjoyed this last chapter! I decided to do the first part of the chapter from the doctors point of view, I thought it helped the story have a little more depth. I may throw in some parts from other crewmember's point of view. I don't know yet. And I'd also like to say to my fellow pirate fans that if you have not seen "Cutthroat Island" you simply must! Reviews please! :]